The Closest Thing To Home
by CrimsonFeatherz
Summary: Mello, Matt and Near; three completely different children brought together because of one man. In Wammy's House the pressure might be enough to break them. Will their 'bonds' with each other be enough to stop them from going under?
1. Chapter 1, New Start

**A/N: Here's a new story idea I've been forming for a while now. It will focus on the characters of Mello, Matt and Near, and how being at Wammy's House has affected and changed them. It will start from the beginning, from the first moment they walk through those doors and onwards. I'll particularly focus on the relationship between the three of them; which brings me to one thing I haven't completely decided on yet: gay or not gay? **

**I'm thinking that it would be suitable for Mello to be gay (seriously, how could he not be? He wears tight revealing leather, has feminine looks, and doesn't bat an eyelid while threatening near-naked women! You do the math!). I'm also thinking about Near being gay too, since that would kind of fit. But then again; if Mello and Near are gay I'll definitely make Matt gay too (I don't want him to miss out! Besides, I don't want to write a MelloXNear story; MelloXMatt is more my piece of cake). So yes, I'm currently undecided on that. **

**But anyway, onto the story! I hope you enjoy it and I hope that I don't get bored with it. So here we go; I'm starting off with Mello (partly because he's my favourite character and partly because it seems right for him to go to Wammy's first). Happy reading!**

The Closest Thing to Home

_Chapter One: New Start_

Mihael was always a quiet boy. He wasn't shy (he was far from that); he just preferred to stay apart from the other kids. Books were his companions, home and the library his regular hangouts. He found others his age to be far too stupid and immature for his liking.

He always knew he was different from them. When he first went to school at the age of five he was surprised when none of his classmates could even read a simple picture book, let alone the books he had been reading. School was always too easy for Mihael, and as he grew older he kept becoming more dissatisfied with going through work without even having to try, while watching others around him struggle. He had always wondered if he was a freak, or something abnormal. An older boy had called him a nerd once and Mihael had broken his nose. No-one tried to insult him after that.

There was only thing he enjoyed about school; and that was the R.E lessons. Religion and the whole concept of God fascinated Mihael, and he was always eager in this class, asking questions and more questions; which delighted his teacher. He'd always wonder whether God was watching him, and had given him his intelligence for a reason. Maybe he was special. Mihael liked to think of that. His mother had always called him her angel.

Overall Mihael was satisfied with his life. He didn't have anything to complain about or mope over. He was happy.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"Mamma! Mamma, get up, it's morning," squealed Mihael, jumping on her bed excitedly. Kristina Keehl sighed in exhaustion, but nevertheless opened her eyes to address her extremely enthusiastic son. "I can see it is morning sweetie, but it's so early. Why don't you go back to sleep," she said groggily.

Mihael widened his eyes. "But it's Easter, and I can't wait any longer," he complained. He suspected that his mother had forgotten that important fact. Her soft brown eyes looked at him tiredly, but then her face lit up with a smile. "Is it really," she teased, as her son looked at her with puppy dog eyes. "Oh my goodness, I don't know if I bought any chocolate for you…"

"Mamma!"

"What was that Mihael? You so rudely woke me up, and now you're going to make me give you chocolate?"

"……" Mihael looked at her stubbornly, but Kristina only continued smiling. He grunted. "Fine then. Excuse me Mamma, sorry for waking you up, but it's Easter time and now we must celebrate with chocolate and more chocolate."

"Mihael."

"Please!!!"

"Well, since you put it that way…" She yawned and managed to heave herself out of the bed. "I suggest you go on outside. I have a feeling that the Easter bunny came and rewarded you for being such an angel."

"I'm not a baby. The Easter bunny doesn't exist," pouted Mihael. Kristina chuckled.

"You need to act more your age," she said, ruffling her son's hair. "No go on and go get your chocolate." Mihael didn't need to be told again, he bolted out the door with what his mother thought was an unnatural speed.

Kristina sat back on the edge of the bed, weary and worn out. She could hear Mihael's screeches of triumph and delight coming from outside while he was obviously following the Easter egg trail. She wiped an unshed tear from her eye. She was lucky indeed to have a son like Mihael. She didn't deserve him of course, but she was grateful anyway.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

"Wow, Mamma really decided to spoil me this time," announced Mihael to himself as he picked up another egg. The straw basket he had gotten from the kitchen was almost full of the little goodies now. Easter had to be his favourite holiday in the year, apart from his birthday of course. It didn't matter if he only had his mother to celebrate with; she was the most important person in the world.

After collecting the last hidden Easter egg, he made his way inside to sit in the kitchen with his mother. "Are we going to Church today," he asked her eagerly as he dumped the contents of his basket on the table.

"Do you want to," she asked, her voice seeming a bit less grounded than usual.

Mihael shrugged. "I dunno. It's supposed to be a really important day today, I think God would like it if we did go," he answered.

"Well I guess we should go then," she replied, but made no move to stand up. Mihael cocked his head.

"What's wrong Mamma," he asked, not disguising the worry in his voice. She shook her head. "Nothing Mihael," she said, putting a smile back on her face. "I'm just tired, that's all."

"Oh… did I wake you up too early?"

"No angel, it's not your fault."

"You don't really look well Mamma, maybe we shouldn't go to Church." Mihael wondered if perhaps his mother was coming down with a cold or something. If so then it would be his turn to watch her while she slept, and feed her hot soup in bed, and read to her.

"No, no, I'm alright. I wouldn't want you to miss the Easter Mass," she replied, but Mihael could tell that the enthusiasm was an act. This confused him. What was happening?

"Are you getting sick or something Mamma," he asked. His mother gave a choked laugh. "No Mihael, I'm not getting sick. I'm perfectly fine."

"Go back to bed Mamma, you're tired."

"You're ordering me to go back to bed? This is an unusual switch."

"I'm sorry for waking you up. Please Mamma, go back to sleep."

"Mihael…"

"It's okay, you can take me to Church next week." He grabbed his mother's arm and pulled her along to the bedroom. "Goodnight, err, good morning Mamma," he said with a grin. She merely pat him on the head once and entered her bedroom, shutting the door behind her.

That was Mihael's biggest mistake.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"_Please Lord, give me strength," _she chanted, holding the crucifix to her chest. _"I have a son, he needs me. I can't do this!"_

A sob exited from Kristina's mouth the same time the tears started coming. _"Please no, I couldn't do this to him! He doesn't even know. He looks up to me. Give me strength Lord!" _

If God was listening he didn't give her any strength.

"_I know I deserve nothing Lord, but I beg of you; help me just this once! Do it for Mihael, he truly believes in you!"_

Her last acts of desperation weren't helping to alleviate the pain in her heart for one second. That knife was looking so tempting right now. _"Oh my God, put me out of my misery!" _She cried out again as she put the note in her hand down on the dresser, and grabbing the knife. _"I've put up with enough Lord. I loved a man who couldn't love me in return, and when he raped me he left me broken and bleeding with a son on the way! I've tried, but I cannot do this any longer. Please, send me to a nicer place." _

With nothing but a whirlwind of turmoil and confusion in her mind, Kristen let the knife slice down.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

It was almost dinnertime, and Mihael's mother still hadn't emerged from her room. He was getting a little impatient, but was reluctant to go get her. She wasn't that happy when he ate too much chocolate at once, and he'd almost eaten the whole basket. Yeah, she'd scold him for that.

After another three Easter eggs, he couldn't wait any longer. He stormed up to the room and opened the door. "Mamma, stop being so lazy and- ARRRRRGGGGHHHHH!"

A shocking scene lay in wait for him. His mother was lying on the floor, clutching her rosary in one hand and a bloodstained knife in the other. Her own life's blood was pooled around her, soaking her clothes and the carpet. "MAMMA," Mihael screamed, running up to her motionless body.

"MAMMA, THIS ISN'T FUNNY! WAKE UP, WAKE UP!" He shook her, crying hysterically as his brain put together all the pieces. He ignored the blood on his hands. Why!? What was this!?

"Mamma," he sobbed, snuggling up close to her body. He didn't know how long he lay there before he caught sight of a piece of paper on the dresser. With a sniff, he stood up and grabbed it.

_Angel, _

_If you are reading this then I must've succeeded and I am dead. I don't want to lie to you; I have indeed done this on purpose. I can't expect you to understand, you're only eleven years old, but you need to know that this wasn't your fault. I wasn't strong enough Mihael, although I tried all of these years. I was sad inside; I could no longer fight it. You were the only thing that kept me going on for so long. I don't know what will become of your future now, but I know that God loves you and will watch over you, just like I am now. You can do so much, I know you can. The police will send you somewhere nice, you will be okay. Mihael, I really am sorry. I know you must be sad now. Please do not blame yourself; I didn't deserve someone as perfect as you were. _

_I love you._

Mihael clenched his fist, letting a blood curdling scream fill the air. He dropped the note and knelt down shaking, his heart pounding the fastest it ever had.

Why? If his mother loved him, why would she be sad? Why would she kill herself? He was the only thing she had, what other reason could there be? She lied… it had to be him, she was just trying to spare him from the guilt. She felt sorry for his wretched soul, the soul that had made her commit suicide.

Mihael screamed again. No, his mother was wrong. He didn't feel guilty, did he!? He didn't know. He did know though that the feelings coursing through him now were more than sadness. He was angry. No… he was furious.

He picked up the lamp that was sitting on the bedside table and threw it across the room. It hit the window with a crash, glass shattering and a thud sounded as the lamp fell to the street outside. Mihael curled up into a ball, the sobs coming from his mouth no longer able to be recognised as human noises.

That was when it all started to fall apart.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

It didn't take long for police to show up at the house, after next door neighbours reported hearing screams and crashing noises coming from inside. They forced their way in and eventually made it to the bedroom.

It took them awhile to coax Mihael out of his position on the floor, and when they finally did he did nothing but stand there, eyes dead and dull. The boy didn't look eleven years old; that was for sure.

Mihael didn't pay much attention to what happened next. The police made phone calls, in the meantime trying to sooth him with kind words and gentle voices. He didn't need them to do that, he was too numb to feel anything. There was something inside him that seemed to be twisting, but nothing more.

Two of the police drove Mihael to the police station before his mother's body was even dealt with. They didn't want him to see it apparently. The rosary, her rosary, that was the only thing on her not drenched in blood, so they gave it to him. Perhaps they thought it could comfort him. Mihael put the rosary around his neck anyway; he'd always wanted one.

_Why would God let her kill herself? Why am I the reason? _

Those were the questions repeating themselves in Mihael's head over and over. But no matter how hard he pondered, for once he could not find an answer.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The orphanage they sent him to was small and held in a very uninviting looking building. The police left him as the owner came out to greet him. He was a middle aged man, dark hair starting to gray and dressed as if he were going to a funeral. He held out his hand to shake Mihael's, but the blonde only looked at him blankly. The man withdrew his hand.

"Hello Mihael," he said, teeth flashing through a smile that anyone could see was fake. "I'm Mr Ashby. I hope you can make yourself feel at home here."

"Cut the bullshit and take me to my room," ordered Mihael. "I haven't been able to sleep anywhere comfortable ever since I was taken out of the house."

The man looked surprised and quite taken aback by Mihael's tone, but the boy couldn't really care less. He needed to sleep.

"Err, um, very well then. Follow me and I'll take you to your room. I assume you would prefer a single room over rooming with another child?"

"I don't care," Mihael muttered, as Mr Ashby led the way up to the ramshackle building. _This man is too submissive. Stupid. _

As Mihael expected the inside of the orphanage was nothing special, merely plain white walls and empty halls.

His room was no better. The only things filling up the space was a single bed, a chest of drawers and a small dressing table complete with a vanity mirror. Still, it was a room, and Mihael had to be grateful for that.

"Thankyou; now will you get lost, I don't feel comfortable with you just standing there and watching me settle in," he said to Mr Ashby, who was standing at the door. The man quickly scurried off without a word. _Forgive me my rudeness Lord. _He kissed his rosary once before practically collapsing on the bed and falling asleep.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"_Why aren't you crying for me Mihael, why are you not sad," cried out Kristina hysterically. His skin felt like it was crawling with bugs as he looked at her. _

"_I'm too angry to be sad," he hissed, turning his back on his mother. "If you love me so much then why did you kill yourself!? Why the fuck would you run away from me like this! First it was Dad and now it's you! I hope you're rotting in hell you selfish bitch; I loved you and you betrayed me!"_

_He turned back to see Kristina's body enveloped in fire, her eyes turning red and demonic wings and horns sprouting from her body. "It is your entire fault Mihael," the creature that was and wasn't his mother said. "You're the one who pushed me off the edge. You brought out the worst of me. You are a demon hiding in the body of an angel. Resent yourself Mihael and resent me, just like I resent you! Pray that when death comes that God won't judge you too harshly. Pray for yourself you rotten child." Mihael covered his ears to block out the noises; of what was once his mother, of the evil cackling coming from beneath him, and most of all from the choking sobs he had started making._

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Mihael woke abruptly to find his pillow tearstained and himself twisted around in the covers of his bed. The nightmares were only getting worse every day. This was the first time his mother had turned into a demon.

He held a silent debate on whether to get out of bed or not. On one hand he was comfortable lying there, and it wasn't like there was anything better to do anyway, as this orphanage didn't cater for education. Then again Mihael never liked to stay still in one place for too long. He was restless.

He finally made up his mind to check out the building. Who knew, this orphanage may be a pleasant surprise for him. He didn't believe this for a second, but surely it was worth hoping for. _Like it's worth hoping that I'll ever get a decent night's sleep. _

Mihael quickly threw on the first clothes he could find and exited the room. He wandered up the hallway, which unlike last night had some people occupying it now. Mihael cocked his head as he saw their faces. The expressions were all the same, so pitifully hopeless and broken, sunk in despair and pain. _I mustn't let myself turn into them. _

"Hello," he attempted saying to the nearest child, a dark haired girl with startled eyes and a too thin figure. She immediately squealed in fright and ran off. Mihael blinked in confusion, and he saw the other kids shuffle away from him too. They looked at him with… resentment.

"_Resent yourself Mihael and resent me, just like I resent you!"_

He winced. It seemed he wasn't even good enough for fellow orphans now. Did they envy him because he still appeared to be whole? Mihael wondered how long it would take for this place to break him.

"Ah, Mihael, there you are," he heard a voice coming from behind him. Mihael turned to see Mr Ashby.

"A man has come here who wants to meet you. He says it is of the upmost importance," he explained.

Mihael frowned. "Who," he asked suspiciously.

"He says that his name is Quillsh Wammy. He owns an orphanage all the way over in England. He is really anxious to meet you."

"What kind of stupid name is Quillsh Wammy," Mihael muttered to himself, but he could still admit that his curiosity was aroused.

"Come Mihael," prompted Mr Ashby, holding onto his hand and beginning to walk. Mihael almost tried to shake him off but decided that he couldn't be bothered. The kids in the hallway had just continued to absently look upon this with their sad faces, and Mihael couldn't help but have a quick rush of pity go through him. He could be like them.

The man sitting in Mr Ashby's office was a kind looking old man with an impeccable suit and neatly slicked back white hair. He seemed kind enough, but Mihael was silently questioning his motives. Why would the owner of an English orphanage want to speak to him?

What really made Mihael confused though wasn't this man, but the other boy who was also in the office. He couldn't be long out of his teens, but he possessed a weirdly childlike sense about him. He was not sitting on his seat but instead seemed to be crouching, his dark alert eyes only standing out more because of his wild black hair. Mihael thought that he should be scared, or at least a little creeped out by this man, but for some reason he felt at ease.

"Hello Mihael," greeted the older man while Mihael sat down. "My name is Quillsh Wammy, although you may call me Watari if you wish, and this is L." He glanced at Mr Ashby. "I beg your pardon, but would it be alright if I spoke to Mihael alone for a moment?"

"Yes, of course," Mr Ashby replied quickly, moving out of the office and shutting the door.

Wammy smiled at Mihael while L merely stared at him piercingly. "Watari, I like him already," the strange youth said, as he started dropping sugar cubes in his tea.

"Umm, thankyou I guess," said Mihael nervously, unsure of how to react. "But what is it exactly you guys want?" He could've demanded some answers or tried to force it out of the two, but Mihael just got the feeling that these were men who needed to be respected.

"Well where do I begin," mused Wammy. "Basically, I have come to bring you an offer you cannot refuse."

"And what would this offer be," asked Mihael cautiously.

"I've come to offer you a place at my orphanage." This totally took Mihael by surprise. "What, just like that? You've just randomly chosen me to go to England?"

"More or less," smiled Wammy. "But first I want you to take a certain test."

"Test?"

"Yes, a test, if that is okay with you. I have it right here in fact; I would like you to do it now."

"Well… umm, okay, I guess." Wammy handed him a piece of paper and a pen. "Take as long as you need," the old man smiled. Mihael still held a little bit of uncertainty inside of him, but started working on the test.

It was different from the normal tests he had used to do at school. For one thing; he had to actually think about these questions. For once his mind was actually challenged. Still, he worked through them with a fair amount of confidence and handed the paper back to Wammy when he was done.

The old man studied the paper silently, and L had leaned over to take a peek as well. Mihael shifted nervously, wondering of he had completely stuffed it up. _I bet I did horrible. _

When Wammy looked up again he held a completely shocked expression. L was biting his finger thoughtfully. _Great; it's worse than I thought. _

"Mihael… let me ask you a question. How would you like to come to my orphanage right now?"

"Huh?" Now he really was confused. "How did I do on the test? Is your orphanage only for people who are dumb or something?"

Wammy laughed, nearly making Mihael jump out of his seat. "No, no, no; it is the opposite of that! My orphanage Wammy's House is designed to house only the smartest youths of your generation. It is a facility made to create the next generation of L's!"

"Next… generation of L's?"

"Yes, it is a place to nurture my possible successors," answered L himself this time. "You may not know this, but I am the greatest detective in the world. Watari built the orphanage so that if… _when_ I die there will be someone to take my place. That way the name of L can live on forever."

Mihael blinked in confusion at the raven haired youth. "So I…?"

"To put it simply Mihael you are one of the smartest children in these times," continued Wammy. "This test clearly shows your superior intelligence."

"Superior intelligence?" Mihael shook his head side to side quickly. "There must be some sort of mistake!"

"I assure you Mihael; this is no mistake."

"You, you mean it? I'm… good enough?"

"Believe me, you are more than good enough. I have not seen such intelligence from a child your age in a long time. You have a chance of making something from yourself Mihael."

"Really…" What would his mother think of him now? If she knew he had this much potential would she still have killed herself? Or would it still have not been enough? Tears filled Mihael's eyes.

"Child, what is wrong," asked Wammy in a concerned voice, while L merely looked on with an expression of… understanding?

"I wish you could've come sooner," Mihael sniffed, his pride shattering. "If she had known… then maybe she would've been happier. Maybe she wouldn't have thought of me as a disappointment."

Wammy shifted uncomfortably, looking unsure of what to do about the crying boy in front of him. Mihael looked down as he sobbed to try to hold onto a shred of dignity.

Then warm arms enveloped him. Mihael's gaze shot upwards at the raven-haired L, who had quickly shot to him without a sound. There truly was understanding in those guarded, sleep deprived eyes. Mihael buried his head into the older youth's shirt to muffle his sobbing.

L gently patted him on the back, and Mihael barely heard his whispered words. "You could be the greatest person in the world Mihael, but not even that would've saved your mother. Depression is a horrible thing; and you cannot truly understand how it works if you do not have it. The life of a genius is hard; people expect so much of us, but we expect even more of ourselves. We even expect that we can stop death. But sometimes things happen that nobody can change. It is not good to dwell on the past."

"But it's so hard," whimpered Mihael.

"I know, I know. It will only get harder from here. But right now you have to make a decision. Do you want to push yourself and broaden your horizons? The path is hard, but once you get to the destination you can reap all the rewards. Are you prepared… to aim for being the best?"

Mihael looked up again and wiped his eyes. "Yes," he said softly. L released the boy from his embrace and turned back to Wammy.

"Watari, he's made his decision. You better tell the owner of this dump that we're taking one of their children with us," he said, speaking at an ordinary volume again.

Mihael looked up at L with awestruck eyes. _If I try, I could be like him one day. If I could be the best, maybe I could be his equal. Mamma would be proud, God would be proud. _

He fiddled with his rosary absentmindedly. _If I was the best..._

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"There's just one thing we need to go through before you relax Mihael," stated Watari as they settled on the plane (first class seats!). Mihael tore his fascinated eyes away from the window and looked at the old man. "Yeah?"

"You must come up with a new name."

"I have to rename myself?"

"Yes, you need an alias to go by. Every child at Wammy's House has one; it is for protection. Plus, once you are there your past needs to be forgotten, and your real name is only a constant reminder of it. It is for the best."

"Do I choose my own name?"

"If you wish to."

"Hmm…" As the plane took off Mihael tried to come up with a name that seemed suitable and not so corny. That was a lot easier said than done.

"What are the sorts of names other kids have come up with," he questioned. Wammy thought for a second.

"Well the majority pick common names that you wouldn't even recognise as an alias. Some of the more spirited kids picked the name of their favourite animal or item, and there was this one kid who decided to be particularly melodramatic and named themself Crimson. It can be anything you want really, the variety's there."

Mihael smiled to himself. He was always called melodramatic by the people around him, so perhaps it would be suitable to pick a name that was more 'out there'. Then suddenly the answer struck him.

"Mello," he decided finally.

"Mello," questioned Wammy with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah, it's quite funny really. It combines the 'melo' in melodramatic with the actual mood mellow. The two words kind of contradict each other."

"So you yourself are a contradiction?"

"I guess so." He gazed back out of the window as the plane continued rising.

"Well then, Mello it is," chuckled Wammy. L merely smiled slightly as he was (not surprisingly) crouched in his seat eating cake.

Mello continued staring out of the window sleepily, and couldn't hold back a yawn. "Is there enough time to have a nap," he asked Wammy.

"Yes, there is more than enough time. You'll need all the rest you can get."

"Okay…" Mello yawned again and let himself get comfy in his seat. It wasn't long until he drifted off.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"_Stupid boy, why didn't you tell me you were so clever," his mother demanded. "I only killed myself because I thought you were a worthless imbecile! Stupid Mihael!"_

_Mihael shivered. "I'm not Mihael anymore, I am Mello! Why don't you just go away!?"_

"_You're the one who's keeping me chained here… you will never let me go!"_

"_No! I will be the best, and to do that I must get rid of you!"_

_His mother laughed, but it was more like a screech. "You will never be the best! You will never be good enough for anyone! And you will never get rid of me!" The flames were back now; the demonic horns and wings sprouting again. "Run and hide, Mihael, like the scared and weak little boy that you are," it boomed. _

_Mihael tried to hold back the tears. "No, I am strong," he whispered, his hands forming fists. "I told you; I'm not Mihael anymore. I am Mello, and Mello will be the best!" His tears were of fury now, and the demon felt it. "You are growing," it mused. "But you are still not good enough. You are weak." And the creature lunged at him, and Mihael screamed as he was burned by the fires of Hell itself._

"_WEAKLING!"_

"Mello!"

"_YOU CAN NEVER GET RID OF ME!"_

"Mello!"

"_YOU ARE PATHETIC!"_

"Mello, wake up now!"

Mello woke abruptly to find Wammy shaking his shoulder and L looking at him curiously. He felt himself sweating profusely, heard himself panting and could practically feel his heart pounding its way out of his chest.

"You were screaming in your sleep," explained Wammy in a gentle tone. Mello took a few deep breaths.

"Sorry, I was just having a bad dream," he muttered. "It won't happen again."

"Well I'd hope not, it really looked like you were petrified!" Mello just looked away from the older man and didn't focus on anything in particular.

_I'm still not strong enough… I need to work harder. I need to become the best._

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

After the plane finally landed Wammy led the way to a sleek black limo. Mello had never seen anything so shiny in his life. "It is good to be back in England again," commented L as they started driving on the road.

Mello automatically had taken a liking to England. The streets were busy and filled with people going about their business; the houses they passed looked grand and majestic. It seemed quite nice… nice and ordinary.

Mello didn't know how much longer it was until the limo came to a stop. The building they were in front of now was even grander, and Mello felt tiny just looking at it.

He opened the limo door and stared at it transfixed. His eyes must've been bulging because Wammy laughed. "Here we are Mello," he gestured eloquently. "Welcome to Wammy's!"

**A/N: So yeah, I hope you like it so far. Just to let you know every change from Mello's name to Mihael to Mello and to Mihael again is intentional, sort of like a split personality (well, not really, but whatever). Well, I guess I'll see you again in chapter two. Away! **


	2. Chapter 2, Safe

_Chapter Two:__Safe_

**A/N: Well so far I've only gotten one review to this story. That's okay though, I'm mostly doing it for myself anyway. So, yes, in this chapter you get a glimpse of the second special Wammy kid (guess who!). I've basically got the pasts of everybody organised, but that's the only thing I know for certain in this story. I guess I'm just winging it and letting the characters do as they please. Hopefully they won't end up killing each other. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: If I owned Death Note then everybody would be doomed and nobody would like it (except maybe intense yaoi fangirls and psychopaths). However, I do own you. Review reader! Review! **

"Holy shit," Mello exclaimed as he looked upon the glorious orphanage that was Wammy's.

"Do you like it," asked L amusedly. Mello gaped at the detective open mouthed.

"This is way too good to be true! I actually get to stay here!?"

"Oh yes indeed," said Wammy. "Now are you going to close your mouth and pop your eyes back in your head so we can show you inside? The others will be so eager to meet you; I told them a new kid was coming."

"Wait, so you knew that I would say yes?"

"I assumed that you would." Mello looked back at the building longingly. "I must be having a really good dream!"

"Well you better hope you don't wake up too soon then," Wammy chuckled. "Come; I must introduce you to Roger, and then L and I must leave."

Mello looked at him wide-eyed. "You have to leave already," he asked. "And who is Roger!?"

"Enough questions Mello; I'm sure that if I answered them all we'd be out here for a week. Just wait until we get inside."

Wammy and L started moving up across the path, and Mello hurriedly walked to keep up with them. By the time they reached the gates Mello could see a small group of kids already out the front pointing at him and whispering to each other. Half of their attention seemed to be on L too. Mello smirked and just soaked up all the attention, no matter who it was for. It was nice to be among people that were more of his equals mentally. Maybe this whole genius thing wouldn't be so hard after all.

"Now, now Mello, if you've had enough of drinking in the spotlight will you keep moving," asked Wammy, but not in an annoyed tone. Mello merely shrugged and followed Wammy through the great front doors.

Huge. That was the word that first came into Mello's mind as he observed the inside of the orphanage. He had never been in such a large place before. He concluded that he'd need a map, because there was no way he could navigate these hallways on memory alone.

As Wammy and L led Mello through the monstrous building he began to feel more and more nervous. Any bit of confidence he had had before entering was completely snuffed out now. It was too… open. If children hadn't been populating the orphanage Mello probably would've been frightened.

"Are you alright Mello? You seem to be turning paler," asked L, and Mello jumped at the sudden noise.

"Yeah… it's just so… HUGE!"

Both L and Wammy began laughing then, and Mello frowned in confusion. "What?"

"This really isn't that big of a place Mello, when you think about it," said Wammy. "Sure it may be larger than that last orphanage you were at, but it's nothing to be getting nervous about. After you've been shown around it won't be that hard to remember the rooms and areas, and the kids will make sure you feel welcome."

"Well… okay." The three of them stopped at a door in the middle of the hallway, and Wammy knocked on it. It was opened by another man of around Wammy's age.

"Quillsh, L, it's so good to see you again," he said. He glanced at Mello. "And you must be Mihael Keehl?"

"He's called Mello now," corrected Wammy. "How have things been for you Roger?"

"Oh, you know, the usual. These little devils keep me on my toes."

"That explains why you're looking older," put in L.

"I see that you still haven't been eating properly L, or have yet to learn to groom yourself nicely. How do you expect to impress any females?"

"Obviously not the same way you do. Tell me Roger, how long has it been since you've had a girlfriend?"

"Okay, that's enough," interrupted Wammy before the verbal sparring could get out of hand. "Anyway Roger, as you know already L and I have some business to attend to elsewhere. Just to let you know, I really think that Mello here has a real chance of succeeding L one day. Make sure he settles in nicely."

"When are you guys coming back," blurted out Mello. Wammy smiled. "I don't know, hopefully soon. You make sure you are a good boy and make some friends, alright?"

"Okay." Wammy started walking back the way they had come, and after quickly whispering to Mello "watch out for Roger" L followed him. Mello felt lonelier all of a sudden.

"Hmm, okay, well then… Mello, why don't you come into my office," asked Roger. Mello didn't answer, just entered the room and sat down. Roger shut the door and took the seat behind his desk. All was silent for a while.

"So Mello, from what I gather you have quite an impressive IQ," Roger finally said. Mello allowed himself the tiniest bit of pride. "Yeah… well that's what Mr Wammy said anyway."

Roger looked at Mello thoughtfully. "Why did you choose to come here boy?"

Mello shrugged, a little puzzled about the question. "I guess it's just a good opportunity. I didn't have many other choices anyway…"

"And what would you have chosen if Wammy came to you before the death of your mother?"

Mello nearly leapt up from his seat. "Why are you asking me all these questions," he said angrily. Roger merely looked at him apathetically. "I'll be honest with you Mello. Indeed, you have the right intelligence to be here; I do not doubt that. But I do not think you have… the right state of mind to be able to grow here."

"What does that mean," growled Mello slightly. His dislike of this man was growing by the second.

"I do not think you have the strength to make it through here."

"I see. You think like she does…"

"Well I don't know who 'she' is but-"

"I will be the best Roger. You watch me; I will be stronger than anyone else could ever hope to be. I will prove everyone wrong. I know these words must sound pitiful and awfully small coming from a boy like me, but believe me; I'm anything but a child. Now will you stop with all these stupid questions and just tell me where I need to go."

Roger must've seen many things at his time at the orphanage, for he didn't even batt an eyelid at Mello's short speech.

"Very well Mello, I can see that you are getting upset. Allow me to show you around the building and then direct you to your room." Roger stood as Mello did. The blonde looked at the old man resentfully. _I would show him._

___________________________________________________

Roger began explaining to Mello the structure of Wammy's House as he gave him a tour around the building. "This orphanage uses rankings," he explained to the blonde as they walked past the infirmary. "Scores from the classes you take get put together and made into an average to post up on the list each week. Basically the higher you are the smarter you are."

"So there are classes here," stated Mello happily.

"Indeed that is so. Ah yes… through that door is the library."

"Who's the number one here?"

"The scores have been extremely close lately, but for now it is a boy named Shiloh. He is around three years older than you are."

"Hmm, cool." That could be someone worth talking to. "What sort of classes are there here?"

"Like any ordinary school there are the core subjects that everyone takes, such as Mathematics, English, the usual. Unlike ordinary schools however it is compulsory to also learn psychology and forensics; after all, you are training to be detectives. After you get settled in here you can enrol for as many of the extra classes as you like. There are many different language subjects, information technology courses, music lessons; there is a wide variety. I won't bother naming everything here."

"Wow, this place is really accommodating," said Mello in awe. Roger didn't answer him, and Mello started fantasising about- "Hey Roger, is there any chocolate here," he asked, half afraid of what the answer was going to be.

"Chocolate? Well, yes."

"Yes, I am in heaven," announced Mello triumphantly. He winced slightly as a vision of burning flames quickly flashed before his eyes. _Damn, I've really got to learn to discipline my mind._

"Come on Mello, now I'll take you to your room," Roger said.

___________________________________________________

To Mello's delight his room was more like an actual place to hang around rather than just a place to sleep. It was equipped with not only the simplest necessities of a proper bedroom, but a couch, computer and a fair sized TV. The window gave a nice view that, as Mello had discovered, if he looked directly down he could see the whole front yard of the orphanage. Plus, a door connecting his room to a bathroom was quite nice; Mello wouldn't have enjoyed sharing one with the other kids much.

Roger had left Mello once he had made sure that the blonde knew how to navigate the orphanage without getting lost. It wasn't really that hard when Mello thought about it.

Dinner was in half an hour, and so Mello wondered to himself about how the other kids would act. _If they are anything like me at all then I might actually enjoy talking to them. A stimulating conversation is hard to come by these days. Wow, I wonder if any of them are like L. _

The orphanage was interesting so far, and unlike anything he could've ever dreamed. There was something about it that was both nerve-wracking and awe-inspiring at the same time. Or maybe the mixed feelings were just due to Mello's recent chocolate withdrawal.

Either way; for the first time in a place other than home, Mello felt safe.

___________________________________________________

_Meanwhile…_

Mail Jeevas looked out of the ramshackle window of the warehouse at the heavily populated streets outside. His eyes; that were so easily hurt by the cruel sun these days, were covered by orange tinted goggles. He couldn't remember the last time he had gazed at the world without the protective covering.

For him it was better anyway. 'Ordinary' people were always vulnerable to the negative side effects of their day to day emotions. Mail had found out a long time ago that this had a lot to do with trust; so for his own good he trusted no-one. Living on the streets didn't exactly leave much time to make emotional attachments to other people anyway. Still, he got by okay; Mail always was resourceful.

"Hey Mailman; Gore is coming," announced a high pitched voice. Mail didn't even pretend to be interested as Kristy made her way inside the warehouse. The blonde teenager skipped her way to the centre of the room to sit with the rest of 'Gore's Gang.' Mail himself had only joined up with the greedy bastard a short time ago, and Kristy was the only member so far who had appeared to warm to him.

"I've already told you, my name is pronounced 'Mile', not 'Male'. Pick a nickname that actually makes sense," he replied.

"Geez, chill Mailbox; there's no need to get your knickers in a twist," grinned the teen. "You have a unique name; that's all."

"No, I had a mother that was a dumb bitch," corrected Mail.

"Is that the sort of language that's supposed to come from little boys these days," came a smooth voice from the door. Mail slightly moved his eyes to appraise the slim figure leaning against the wall. Gore was extremely stealthy; no-one ever heard him coming. He was the type of person who could slit your throat without letting you have the chance to scream.

Mail watched as the black haired youth lit a cigarette and put it between his lips. Everyone waited silently as Gore smoked, not daring to attempt the currently lethal method of talking.

Finally he finished and exhaled. "All went as planned," he begun, fishing out a big bunch of money from his pocket. "The job was completed with no setbacks or complications. I must admit Mail that your special computer skills were useful. Hmm, good job."

"Yeah, he really put a Mail-order on them," joked Kristy.

"So then where's my share of the money," asked Mail. The room went even more drop-dead silent than before; which was saying a lot. No-one ever dared to question the boss, especially about money matters, and Mail knew he was treading a very thin line here, especially considering how new he was to the group. But to be honest; he didn't really care. Mail was one of those 'say what's on your mind and be honest' sorts of people.

Gore cocked an eyebrow in surprise as he looked at the seemingly stupid redhead with a death wish. He gave a small smirk.

"I should get some of the guys to rough you up for making that comment," he said cruelly, obviously trying to scare the boy.

Mail shrugged. "If that's my punishment for speaking my mind, then by all means go ahead. It doesn't bother me, really," he replied evenly and honestly.

Gore frowned. "Do you think that I'll put up with your smartarse comments," he asked angrily. "You always act like such a careless, stupid little boy. Stop acting as if you won't scream when I hit you. In fact, let me prove my point!"

Mail looked absently as Gore made his way over to the window with a clenched fist. The redhead tensed as he prepared for a blow that was sure to come.

"Hey, hey! Hold on a second," protested Kristy loudly as she stepped in front of Mail protectively. "He's just a kid! Don't tell me that you'd stoop so low as to hit a little boy who doesn't know any better?"

Gore hesitated a second before lowering his fist. "I'll give you the benefit of the doubt this time. Beating some stupid kid isn't satisfying anyway. Still, I think you are smarter and more cunning than you let yourself seen as on the surface. Watch your back," he warned, before lighting another cigarette.

"I have more business to attend to," he continued saying to everyone else. "Try to make yourselves of some use." And so Gore turned away and stalked back out the door of the warehouse.

Kristy sighed as she turned to look at Mail. "You need to be careful about what you say, okay," she stated to him before heading back towards the other members.

"Whatever," muttered Mail.

"Do you know what'll happen if you keep getting on his nerves like this?"

"I have a pretty good idea."

"He'll return you back to sender."

Mail wondered how old he had to be to apply for a legal name change.

___________________________________________________

"Wow, so you really came from Latvia, but you still speak English," asked a brown haired boy in awe.

"Yep," Mello grinned. As soon as he had entered the eating area a flock of kids had automatically come to greet him. He was currently sitting in the middle of a large table, people hovering around to question and gape at him. Mello wasn't used to all this attention, but found he quite surprisingly loved it.

"What's that necklace you're wearing?"

"It's not a necklace, it's a rosary," corrected Mello, holding it lightly in his hand. "It's used for praying."

"What's praying," asked a little girl. Mello felt a lecture coming on. "Well…" he began carefully, wondering how to answer. "I guess you're a bit too young to be serious about it, but praying is used to converse with God."

"With God?"

"Yeah."

"But doesn't God know everything that everyone is thinking anyway?"

"Yes, but that's not the point. Praying helps people assure themselves that God is listening."

"Does God answer?"

"Well, no."

"Then how do you know he's listening?"

"That's a whole different subject. It's something everyone likes to call faith."

"Coooool." Mello was beginning to think that he could really get used to this whole centre of attention thing. Everyone was hanging onto his every word, and it felt nice.

"Hmm, so here is the new kid," came a new voice from the left of the table. Kids parted the way for a well built teenager with sandy brown hair.

"I'm Mello," Mello introduced himself. The other kid scoffed. "Shiloh," he replied. _Ah, so this is the number one here. _

"I heard about you," Mello grinned. "You're top of the rankings right?"

"Yeah, what's it to you?"

"Well I _was _going to say well done and that you must be pretty smart, but it seems obvious now that you don't really care much about the title." The kids sitting on Mello's table seemed to get up and back off all a sudden. Shiloh looked at Mello shiftily. "What was that you said kid?"

"Well, if I was number one I think I'd be happy to brag about it all the time. You don't really seem that enthused. That's a good thing I suppose, since I'm aiming to reach the top and I wouldn't want to upset anyone by doing so."

Mello flinched as Shiloh let out a huge guffawing laugh. "You think that you can come anywhere close to the top," he jeered.

"As a matter of fact I think I can," answered Mello smugly. "Mr Wammy said I have the highest intelligence that he's seen for some time, and he even told Roger that I have the potential to succeed L." The kids around them started whispering, and Mello smirked at Shiloh triumphantly.

"He said that," asked Shiloh in disbelief.

"Yep, you'd better believe it!"

"You sure are a cocky little kid." Shiloh narrowed his eyes at Mello. "Very unusual. Did you get sent here on a scholarship program or something?"

"What?"  
"You're too… happy and high spirited. Kids your age who've lost their parents aren't supposed to act like that."

Mello felt a lump form in his throat. "Maybe unlike some other people I don't want to mope around and act like I'm the only one," he suggested. "Surely the number one of a genius orphanage would already know that? Hmm, unless you're not actually the real number one. I'd expected you to be a proud and confident person, not a grouchy bully." The whispering grew louder. "No offense meant of course," added Mello.

Shiloh smiled, a creepily eerie smile that didn't look friendly or welcoming at all. "Of course… none taken. Still kid, if Wammy thinks you have that much potential, you just may be a threat to me."

Mello decided that now might be a good time to shut up, as around half a dozen boys gathered around the bulk of their leader.

"What do you say Mello? Do you really think that you can make it to the top," asked Shiloh.

Mello decided to answer honestly, as he was basically screwed either way. "Yeah, I do," he replied.

"Hmm, wrong answer. Such a pity, you could've been a part of my group after a little initiation. Ah well; it happens."

Shiloh looked around at the other children who had gathered around him. "Grab his arms and keep him still," he ordered, and Mello struggled to defend himself as the bigger boys rushed to satisfy their leader. He'd managed to punch one boy in the nose and kick a couple more in a place where the sun doesn't shine before they were able to detain him. Mello growled and struggled to wriggle out of their iron grip.

Shiloh looked at him apathetically. "Hopefully now you won't speak out of turn. Stupid kid, I almost pity you." And the older boy slammed his kneecap into Mello's stomach. Mello let out a choked gasp as all the air got knocked out of him. The boys holding his arms let go and he slumped over on the ground.

"Don't even think about helping him," Shiloh ordered the crowd that were still gathered around the area. "Anyone who does will be sorry!" He bent down to see Mello eye-to-eye. "Don't get in my way." And he stood up again, kicking Mello once more for good measure before leaving him there whimpering and shocked.

**A/N: Did you like it? *looks with pleading eyes* Anyway, next chapter you get your first glimpse of Near, and Matt goes to Wammy's. Woohoo! Prepare yourselves people; a storm is coming. **


	3. Chapter 3, Isolation

**A/N: I actually quite like this chapter. *puffs up proudly* The last two I was a bit iffy about; but this one seems a bit different from those ones. **

**I quite enjoyed writing from Near's point of view. It makes me wonder about many things. I used to hate him but now I feel quite accepting of that little fuzzy wuzzy albino, lol. Enjoy my pets, enjoy. **

**Disclaimer: If you think I own Death Note just shoot me now. ...........See, I don't own it. Good. Oh yes, and if your house blows up then I'm sorry. I told the Mafia you were the ones who stole their brownies. Tsk tsk, the poor things. **

_Chapter Three: Isolation_

Nate River always liked to play make-believe. In his old home he had what seemed like an infinite amount of toys and other such devices to occupy his time. Nate loved the whole inanimate behaviour of toys. They did not try to hurt you or make you sad. Toys willingly bent themselves to your will.

Nate's new 'Daddy' (as he liked to call himself) did not want him to play with those toys anymore. No; Daddy had his own toys already, and he always loved to play with Nate.

The young boy did not like these sorts of toys. Unlike his old ones they bit at his skin and tried to take control of _him. _The nights were all the same. Daddy came home after having a few drinks and got out his big toy box. Most often he would pick out handcuffs, a belt or a rope, and then he would call Nate into his bedroom to play. And even though it hurt so much Nate gained a strange feeling of happiness that his Daddy loved him enough to want to share these experiences with him. He was special enough.

Still, he did not enjoy the nights themselves, so not wanting to disappoint Daddy he'd come up with a way to calm himself when he just wanted to run away. He used percentages.

Percentages were ordered, laid down in a way that was practical and made of stone. Nate could easily analyse events and place the correct percentages on them happening. That 'knowing' of things helped Nate to relax.

The sound of the front door opening broke Nate from his thoughts. Unsurprisingly he was right on time. "Did you have a good day Daddy," he asked meekly as the dark haired man made his way to the living room couch where Nate was sitting.

"No, my day was shit," he answered, sounding frustrated. He also sounded… surprisingly sober. That was uncalculated on Nate's part. He looked at the young albino lustfully. "Do you want to play a game with me," he asked.

"Y-yes Daddy," Nate replied. Once he had said no and Daddy had thrown his bottle at him.

"Well get up," the man demanded.

"I…I can't…" The long nights caused Nate's body to diminish in strength over time, and without sufficient rest his muscles would not obey him. Of course Nate never got enough rest.

"Pfft, weakling," scoffed Daddy, picking him up. "Don't even think that I'll be going easy on you."

"Of course not Daddy, I'm sorry."

"You know that you enjoy it."

"Yes…" Nate whimpered slightly as Daddy carried him to the bedroom. He quickly got his mind working. There was a forty-seven percent chance of rain tomorrow, but only a three-point-five of a storm.

His mind kept rambling as Daddy placed him down on the bed, slowly removing clothes and kissing the white, vulnerable scarred skin underneath. All foreplay for what the night would bring. Nate closed his eyes and hoped it would be all over soon.

___________________________________________________

Ever since the incident with Shiloh the other kids had kept away from and ignored Mello. This annoyed him slightly, but he couldn't really blame them for not wanting to get themselves beaten up. Some occasionally smiled at him and whispered a quick 'hi' as they were walking past, but none were brave enough to go against Shiloh completely. Obviously being number one was a powerful position in this orphanage, and so Mello learnt to find his way by himself.

After the first week Mello was expected to go to classes, and did so with great glee. The more challenging nature of them amused him and motivated him to work hard.

After the second week he had looked at the rankings curiously and found himself to be eleventh on the list. This sudden rise had caused him to again be targeted by Shiloh, but even as he got hurt Mello was greatly proud of himself for reaching that high in only a week.

People were starting to give him weird looks after that, like they could sense that Mello was going to turn out to be something great. He got a few more smiles and even had a conversation with a blonde girl his age named Linda.

After his third week at Wammy's he had risen to sixth place. By then his nightmares gradually started to go away, until the scared little Mihael finally faded and the big confident Mello stood in his place. Shiloh could see that his followers were starting to drift away in favour of the lower ranked Mello, so desperately tried threatening the blonde into submission.

By the time a month had passed since the day Mello had wandered into the orphanage, Shiloh could no longer touch the Mello that was now ranked third place. People excitedly whispered to each other about the new kid being on the brink of reaching number one.

Mello was a completely different person. He knew now how unique he really was, and used his 'superior intelligence' (as Wammy had said) to his advantage. He manipulated people into doing his bidding as if they were puppets, and was surprised by how well this worked. These kids were supposed to be geniuses, but it appeared to Mello as if their personalities were blank and likened to those of a sheep's.

And so, when the fifth week passed and Mello was finally number one, he felt he was finally getting everything he deserved. People were no longer too afraid to declare their loyalty to him, and the first thing that Mello had done after reaching number one was getting revenge on Shiloh and his former cronies. No-one opposed him now.

He was the leader of the orphanage; the powerful blonde boy with gleaming eyes and a chocolate bar in hand. Mello reigned supreme over them all, and he enjoyed every second of this.

However, that was when the nightmares started again. At first Mello thought it was a one off thing, but when his mother appeared in his dreams every night he knew that something was wrong. He began to get frustrated; releasing it on the children at Wammy's who annoyed him the most.

They no longer looked up at Mello as a shining new hope. He had turned into a tyrant, no different from Shiloh, and kids desperately tried not to get on Mello's bad side.

The senseless cooperation from everyone only angered Mello even more. Where were the guts of these children, were they all seriously just a bunch of cowards and suck-ups? Mello continued to gain followers, but never gained any friends. The awe-struck little boy who had first come to Wammy's was indeed gone now. A cold, frustrated person now stood in his place. He was feared. He was hated. He was loved.

___________________________________________________

Over the past weeks Mail had done his best to gain favour with Gore. Sure, he didn't like the guy, but he'd have to be stupid not to realise that continuing to rebel against him would only put him in a tight spot. So, when the dark haired teenager found himself in his own tight spots Mail used his skills with computers to always guarantee Gore a way out of everything. Well known companies were getting hacked into and robbed all the time these days.

He was a very valued member of the gang now, and when Gore went out on business he enjoyed taking Mail with him if the opportunity was allowed. He'd even given the redhead a cigarette once, and Mail had been hooked to them since. Overall the eleven year old was quite satisfied about where he stood in life. Until that one day…

He and the gang were waiting in the warehouse when Gore burst through the door wide-eyed and with bloodied clothes.

"I don't know how, but the police knew who I was," he explained frantically. "I had to knife one of them to get away. Quickly, we need to get out of here now!"

_There was a leak. Someone was working for the fuzz all along. _

Mail bit his lip. If that was true then there was no point running. The police would already know…

The sound of sirens screeched through the air. "Shit," swore Gore as he quickly peered through the window. "Four cars. We can only try to make a run for it. There aren't any guarantees though. Grab all the weapons you can."

Mail was unsure what to do as everyone else reacted, grabbing knives and guns and rushing out of the door. He felt someone grab his hand and looked up to see a very scared looking Kristy. "It'll be alright Mail," she reassured him; even though there was no confidence in her voice whatsoever. "I'll make sure they won't hurt you." Mail nodded, and she helped usher him out of the door too.

Outside had turned into a war. Members of Gore's gang were shooting at the police, who were crouched behind their car doors and firing their own shots. Kristy helped Mail to navigate in between the shooting.

He was shocked as he could see people getting shot down one by one. He hadn't seen anybody get killed before since his parents. It gave him a numb feeling.

And he was still numb as he heard Kristy cry out in pain and let go of his hand, as she collapsed to the ground with blood seeping through her clothes. "Keep running Mail," she gasped, and he obeyed.

He kept running until a large figure grabbed Mail by his shirt. He inwardly groaned as he saw the police outfit. "It's okay Mail," he was trying to reassure him. "You don't need to be near the fighting. You're coming with me."

"Let me go," screamed Mail, flailing around in the officer's grip. "How do you know my name!? Just LET ME GO!"

"Whoa, calm down kid, it's not like I'm going to hurt you." Mail kept kicking and screaming as the man took him back to the car. "I TOLD YOU TO LET ME GO!"

For once in his life Mail was truly frightened.

___________________________________________________

"I want my lawyer," huffed Mail as he sat down in the police station. The man sitting opposite to him chuckled. "Don't worry kid; you're not going to jail. In fact, you have a couple of visitors who are dying to see you."

"Visitors? What the hell are you on about?"

"If you'll come with me into this room here then you can meet them."

"What if I don't want to?" Mail was gauging the policeman's reactions carefully, trying to pinpoint his intentions. He didn't seem to be withholding anything, so far.

"If they want to see me they can come to me; I'm not going over to them like a dog," elaborated Mail. The officer frowned and scratched his forehead.

"Well okay then. Wait there and don't go anywhere," he said, and quickly walked off. Mail rolled his eyes; as if he could escape even if he could be bothered to, the building was full of cameras.

The policeman didn't return, instead two completely different people came to sit down opposite him. Mail observed them silently from behind his goggles.

The older gentleman had a calm demeanour, kind-looking and definitely had no intentions to harm anyone. The younger man was practically oozing intelligence, but Mail felt automatically uneasy looking at him. Maybe it was because he looked so much like Gore, or because he was so hard to read. Most people these days were like open books.

"Hello Mail," the older man said with a smile. "My name is Quillsh Wammy, and this is L. We-"

"Hold on a second," interrupted Mail. "How do you know my name?"

"We've had an eye on you for quite some time," answered Wammy. "You may be an experienced hacker, but not even you can cover all your tracks when the right people are involved."

"Wait, so you're the one who blabbed to the police about the gang!?"

"You're very quick. Yes indeed, we were the ones," replied L this time, looking at Mail thoughtfully. "Watari, I'm getting a weird feeling about this one. He's very… perceptive."

"Stop talking about me as if I'm not here," said Mail stubbornly, crossing his arms. "What do you guys want?"

"We want to give you an opportunity that not many get," said Wammy.

"Mmm hmm. I'm still listening."

"I'm the owner of an orphanage in England called Wammy's House."

"Wow, self-obsessed much?" Wammy ignored the comment. "It is for children with the intelligence of a genius," he continued.

Mail yawned. "So because I know how to hack better than a pro I'm a genius," he stated. "Well, it's good to know that some people really do recognise how awesome I am, but I have to say no."

"Excuse me?"

"No, negative, not interested, request denied, however you'd like to phrase it." Mail shrugged. "Personally I'm quite content on staying on the down low and making my way in the streets."

Mail smiled as he saw Wammy look completely bewildered. The other man, L; Mail still couldn't read his face properly. "Now can you tell these stupid officers to release me, otherwise I'll just scream this place down," requested Mail. "Or are you going to take me to your orphanage kicking and screaming?"

"Okay Mail," said Wammy calmly.

"Eh?"

"I respect your decision."

"You what?" Mail was glad he was still wearing his goggles, as they helped to cover most of his shock. He was so used to people forcing down their ideals on him that it was surprising to see someone give up so easily when he denied them.

"What are you talking about," asked Mail suspiciously. "Just like that? You're going to let me choose just like that? You're not going to even attempt to make me change my mind?"

"Nope. I offered something and you rejected it; there's nothing wrong with that. Me and L will go right now and tell the police to let you go."

Both Wammy and L stood and prepared to leave. "Hey, hold on a second," protested Mail. A ghost of a smile was on L's face. "Who on earth are you guys?"

"I told you. My name is Quillsh Wammy and this is L," replied Wammy. "Although I am also known as Watari to some."

Mail didn't even hesitate before asking, "Are all English people so difficult to understand?"

"That depends on what you call difficult," smiled Wammy.

"I mean are all English people aliens compared to Americans? The people here are simple; they all operate the same way. They are easy to read. You two confuse me."

"You have been stuck on a one-way road all your life," responded L dryly. "We came to you with a detour. Naturally it is different."

"Hmm," said Mail thoughtfully. "You come up with that sort of shit for a living don't you?" _Damn I need a cigarette. _

"Actually I am a detective."

"I see, so you come up with that sort of shit to back up your made up evidence to impress people."

"Watari," addressed L, turning away from Mail. "I will be most disappointed if he does not decide to come."

"I know what you mean L," replied Wammy thoughtfully. "He is definitely one of a kind."

Mail shifted impatiently. "You guys could always go into another room to talk about me," he commented. "Perhaps then I wouldn't hear you."

Wammy looked at Mail very carefully. He seemed to be trying very hard to choose the right words. "We know that you've had a hard life Mail," he began. _No shit Sherlock. _"But now you have a choice. You can take the other path and live and grow with a bunch of orphaned children just like you. Or, you can refuse and go back to your normal life. You know as much as I do how meaningless that life is. I'm asking you to trust me Mail, and be willing to take that huge leap. So this is the last time I will ask this; will you accept my offer?"

Mail cocked his head. "Before I do tell you my answer, I need to ask you a question," he countered. "What are your true motives for inviting me to this genius orphanage? What is your purpose? As you two said; I am perceptive. I know there must be some sort of reason."

Wammy chuckled. "Very well Mail, it seems like nothing gets past you. Wammy's House is an orphanage to train the next generation of L's."

Mail raised an eyebrow. "You want more of him," he asked, pointing to L. "Are you guys on crack or something?"

"I will pretend you didn't say that," said L dryly. "This world needs a great detective, which is why they have me. When I die I want someone to be my successor. That's when Watari came up with the idea of establishing an orphanage housing only geniuses."

"Okay… I see. So you're asking me to compete in an orphanage full of smart kids for this detective title?"

"Yes."

"Count me in then." Mail grinned. "I'll show these uptight English bastards what it means to be a genius. While I'm there there's going to be no reason for anyone to have to have any pressure put on them whatsoever."

Wammy shook his head in disbelief. "You're a very interesting kid Mail," he said, taking out a piece of paper and a pen. "Now will you just complete this test?" He handed everything to Mail. "To see if I really am a genius eh," he asked.

"In a manner of speaking," replied Wammy. Mail sighed as he looked at the test. "I hate working," he grumbled. "Do I have to do it?"

"If you want to go to the orphanage then yes." Mail rolled his eyes and began filling out the test unenthusiastically, with little motivation. When he was completed he handed it back to Wammy. The old man looked like he was about to have a heart attack.

"Amazing," he breathed. "This is a kid who could rival Mello." L looked at Mail with a slight frown. "No, he won't," he disagreed. "He lacks the drive. He has zero motivation. He will not let the orphanage or the concept of rankings get to him. I'll be surprised if he makes the top five."

Wammy looked back up at Mail. "One more thing," he said. "Every kid at Wammy's House goes by an alias. You may choose whatever name you wish to have yourself addressed by."

Mail smiled, and the old distant memory of a small brown-haired boy came to him. "Matt," he said enthusiastically. "Definitely Matt."

Wammy smiled back. "Well then Matt, we better be off to England then," he said. Matt's smile turned into a grin. _Time to show these guys what I'm made of. _

**A/N: Matt's character turned out completely different than what I expected. That stupid redhead was being so stubborn; not wanting to go to Wammy's and stuff. It's fun writing as him though; what can I say, the kid's got spunk. I'll see you in the next chapter, when Matt and Mello meet face to face. Dun dun duhhhhnnnn!**


	4. Chapter 4, Vibes

**A/N: Well, I'm actually quite enjoying writing this story so far! Thankyou to everyone who has reviewed (which is only a few people as of yet, lol) because it really does help encourage me. Even a kind word or two is nice. **

**It really amazes me how I can think that I have something planned out to happen in the story in the right way, but then the characters just refuse to obey me and act out completely different. I know, I must sound crazy. Ah well. For some reason I'm finding Matt quite annoying to write. I mean, it's fairly easy with him and stuff, because I can make his personality whatever I want, but he's just being weird. *shakes head sadly* Silly irritating redhead, I should cut him off from anything electronic. *thinks* Or maybe not, otherwise I'll have some angry people to answer to. **

**Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter! It's a little shorter than the last ones I think, so sorry! **

_Chapter Four: Vibes_

Matt had been expecting something grand, so he wasn't surprised when the limo reached the front of Wammy's House. Perhaps there was something about the building that was supposed to command respect from its occupants, but Matt got a different sort of vibe from it.

"So is this it," he asked Wammy with a yawn. "I must admit that I was expecting something more." He looked at the front, where children were sitting around or playing on the grounds. Hmm, it seemed ordinary enough so far.

"Well we are sorry Matt if we cannot reach the standards of a kid who has lived on the street most of his life," replied L.

"Now, now L," scolded Wammy. "Let the boy be himself."

"Yeah L, you wouldn't want to crush my self esteem," smirked Matt. "So are we going inside or what?"

"Of course. We need to take you to Roger."

"Let me guess; Roger is an old grouchy man who runs this place while you two are off doing whatever it is your doing."

"You've hit the nail on the head," answered L. Wammy snorted. "I do not understand what people have against Roger," he said with a shake of his head. "We are old acquaintances and I find him to be exceptionally good with children."

"That's because he always sucks up to you Watari."

"Oh stop it L. In any case, he _does _run this place, so I would like you to respect him Matt."  
"I respect those who deserve my respect."

"I suppose I cannot ask for any more. Ah well, come on, let's go." Matt observed his surroundings as he followed Wammy and L through the gates. It seemed as if they had only taken a few steps when a skinny blonde boy, probably European, interrupted them in their path.

"L, Mr Wammy," the boy said excitedly. "Roger told us that you'd be coming back soon!"

Matt was surprised when L smiled and patted the blonde on the head. He didn't seem to be the type to show any affection. "I heard that you reached the top of the rankings Mello," he said.

The boy grinned, and Matt could easily see pride and confidence exuding from him in spades. "Yep, I sure did," he confirmed. He seemed to only just notice Matt then. "Oh yeah, I guess you brought a new kid along."

"My name is Matt blondie," reacted Matt.

"I don't remember asking for your name," replied the boy.

"Mello, be polite," said Wammy. _What kind of name is Mello anyway?_ "Matt, this is Mello. I'm sure that since he is top of the rankings here he will make you feel welcome."

"Of course Mr Wammy," Mello said, smirking at Matt. "What's with the goggles?"

Matt automatically put a hand over them protectively. "What's with the long hair," he countered. Mello narrowed his eyes at him. _Ha, this kid isn't hard to read at all. He wears his emotions out on his sleeve. _

"Are you sure he's a genius," Mello asked. Matt felt a quick pang of annoyance.

"Yes Mello," Wammy answered with a chuckle.

"Can he prove it?"

"Ahem, yes, _I _can prove it," said Matt. "Would you prefer me to give you a quick rundown on your personality, or to hack into the FBI?"

"Save it for later children," interrupted Wammy. "For now we need to take Matt to meet Roger."

"Oh, okay, can I walk with you," asked Mello.

"I do not see why you can't," smiled L. They proceeded to walk through the front doors. Children were buzzing around them excitedly, but seemed to be reluctant about getting too close when Mello started glaring at them. Typical, the blonde was a cocky egomaniac with a bad temper. Not someone that Matt would get along with.

Matt merely observed quietly as they walked through the halls, Mello drilling L with questions about the cases he'd been working on and Wammy saying hello to the kids that were still sticking around.

Matt still got a bad vibe about this place. For some reason it gave him a bad taste in his mouth, like it had something to hide, and Matt was afraid that if he took his goggles off he would automatically fall under a spell. Or maybe his imagination was just running rampant.

Eventually they reached the door to what Matt assumed was Roger's office, and Wammy knocked on it. A grumpy looking geriatric who looked like he had a pole shoved up his ass answered.

"Roger," addressed Wammy with a smile. "It's good to see you again so soon."

"Yes indeed." Roger frowned as he caught sight of Mello. "Shouldn't you be off playing somewhere Mello?"

"No," the blonde replied stubbornly. "I am acting grown up and conversing with my other grown up friends."

"It seems to me that you're being discriminative Roger," commented L. It took all the self control he had for Matt not to laugh at the expression on Roger's face.

He seemed to regain his composure. "Anyway," he continued, looking at Matt. "What are you called now child?"

"Matt," he replied. "Not Matthew or anything. Just Matt."

Roger nodded. "I assume he already knows the basic elements of this orphanage?"

"Yes," replied Wammy. "He's a perceptive child; he squeezed it out of us."

"In that case, all he needs is to be shown around and then taken to his room. Mello, you can be his tour guide."

The blonde's mouth dropped open. "Are you joking," he protested. "Why me!?"

"Since you want to act so grown up, then why not? Besides, you are ranked number one here, it is suitable that you should help the new kids fit in."

"But-"

"Just do as Roger says Mello," interrupted L, and the boy immediately fell silent. It interested Matt how he seemed to look up to the raven-haired detective so much.

"Good, now that that's all sorted, you and Matt are dismissed," said Roger. "Matt, your room is just across from Mello's, so he can escort you there as well. Now Quillsh, L, may I entice you with some desserts?"

___________________________________________________

Being a tour guide was not only humiliating to Mello, but extremely annoying, especially when the person you're showing around is so quiet yet such a smartass at the same time. Mello was starting to get extremely annoyed by those goggles; he just wanted to yank them off Matt's head and snap them. Honestly, this was so beneath him.

And he didn't like the way the redhead was staring at him either, like he was studying his every move or something. "Will you cut that out," he finally snapped after he could feel himself being stared at for ten minutes straight.

"Hmm, cut out what?"

"The staring! Seriously, I don't want you analysing me!"

"I think you're being paranoid. I'm walking behind you, in case you haven't noticed. Or do all the kids here have eyes in the back of their heads?"

Mello whirled around to face him. "Let me set something straight with you," he hissed. "You are not to respond to my orders with smartass comments! I'm telling you this for your own safety."

"Uh huh, I see. So what happens if I do, are you gonna get your minions to beat me up or something? That would make sense; you hiding behind others."

"Ha," scoffed Mello. "I don't need to hide behind other people; I can beat sense into you myself. I'm no coward."

"Oh, I'm sorry; I suppose your feminine looks fooled me."

_TWACK. _

Mello had put all of his force into the punch, and to his delight Matt fell backwards and onto the ground. But, unexpectedly, instead of looking shocked or crying out in pain, the moron laughed. Laughed! What kind of masochist was he?!

"What the hell," yelled Mello, not sure how to react. "Why are you laughing!?"

Matt stopped his laughter, but a smirk was still clear on his face. "Because you're freakin' scared."

"What the fuck are you talking about," snarled Mello. "I'm not scared of anything!"

"Hey, I've been hit many times in my life; I know what sort of punch that is. It's a desperate move in which you're trying to assert your authority, because without it you would be nothing. Sure, it was an angry punch, due to me insulting you, but more than anything it was your way of lashing out against your fears. Right now I'm wondering what made you turn out like this."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," growled Mello. _Who the hell does this kid think he is!?_

"Whatever you say blondie," said Matt with a shrug. "Now do you want to hit me once more? I'm sure it'll help you with your insecurities." When Mello didn't move Matt stood himself back up. "You don't need to be so angry at me," he added. "I'm not trying to usurp you from your spot or anything. I'm pretty much the last person who would want to do that."

Mello narrowed his eyes at Matt suspiciously. "Don't lie to me," he said. "Every child at this orphanage is competing for the title of L. Why else would you even be here in the first place?"

Matt shrugged. "I see your point," he admitted. "But to be honest I have no intention on ever becoming a detective. Seriously, it is way too much work for me and I definitely do not have the motivation to solve cases for incompetent idiots. Nah, I'm the more 'chill out and take it easy' sort of guy."

"I don't believe you," said Mello stubbornly.

"Just like I don't believe that this whole macho act of yours is the real you," countered Matt. The two boys stood; Mello with his arms crossed and Matt with his by his side, glaring at each other.

Mello let a scowl cross his face. _Stupid wise talking little bastard. I should go and smash the crap out of him. _Matt merely looked at him impassively, as if daring him to do something. Testing him.

"Hmmph," said Mello with a toss of his head. "I'm getting sick of speaking to you now. I've shown you Wammy's, so I'll take you to your room and as long as you stay out of my way we won't meet again."

"That's fine with me," snorted Matt. Mello gave him one last withering look, and then proceeded on through the hallways at the fastest speed possible.

___________________________________________________

Matt had one word to describe his room, and that word was perfect. It was simple, had a bed, TV, couch, closet, bathroom, and after looking through the drawers Matt found a Game Boy. He had never played one before, but after spending hours each day watching kids walking across the street twiddling their thumbs on various electronics he was willing to try it out.

He made up his mind to check it out later, as his thoughts were currently focussed on something else. This orphanage, this institution, Wammy's House, he knew why he got a bad vibe about it now.

Places like these were rare to find these days; places that broke the spirit with immense amounts of pressure. Yeah, there _were _heaps of those, just not heaps of places able to cover it up so well. The pressure must be extremely hard to change boys like Mello; who must've been good people once, into cold competitive sadists with their minds set only on one thing. It was horrifying really, and actually quite saddening.

Matt wondered how many other children realised this from the beginning as well. He also wondered if the people responsible for the orphanage knew of the chokeholds they put on these kids. Matt thought that at least L and Wammy must know it to some extent, even if Roger didn't. It was sick, almost vomit-worthy.

It must be too late for most of the kids. It was a shame really, but there wasn't much Matt could really do about it, was there? He couldn't force the other orphans into seeing the same way he did, or to make them despise L and Wammy. The whole situation was stupid, and Matt could do nothing but sit in the front seats and watch the show.

Was there any hope for these other children at all? _And can I continue to avoid being snared by this place?_

___________________________________________________

It was early in the morning, and Nate was lying hurt and tired again on the bed as he could hear Daddy moving things around in the kitchen. There was only a seventeen percent chance of him coming back to the bedroom to give Nate any food, as he had been fed yesterday morning. Nate by now had gotten used to barely eating and hardly ever had the strength to feel hungry.

Nate sighed and buried his head in the soft pillow. He knew that Daddy loved him so much; so why didn't he ever say it? Was hurting Nate really the only way he could show it?

Surprisingly the doorbell rang suddenly. He heard Daddy swearing as he made his way over to answer it. For a few minutes Nate heard muffled talking and obvious protestations from Daddy, until he heard unfamiliar footsteps approaching the room. Nate managed to turn his head to gaze blankly at the wide-eyed female police officer.

Yes, it was one hundred percent for sure that he would be taken away now. Daddy had played the game, and he had lost fair and square. The business he always went to was risky, and getting caught in doing those illegal activities made him fail. For failing he lost Nate, and most likely gained a long time in prison. _Sorry Daddy, you lose. _

Nate wouldn't regret feeling good about leaving those horrible nights. He wouldn't regret being overjoyed that justice was finally on his side. However, he would always feel bad about the strange satisfaction in him when he saw the police detaining Daddy with handcuffs.

___________________________________________________

As Matt sat alone eating he could not help but feel sickened by the way the other children seemed oblivious to the ways the orphanage affected them. Mello was in a corner crunching on a chocolate bar, people constantly going up to him to follow his every wish.

For some reason Matt pitied the blonde. Being the top of the rankings, Mello was sure to have the most weight on his shoulders. Well, enough to turn him into a bully anyway.

It was like everyone here was just trapped inside a barren room without escape. Matt winced slightly; he could relate to that. Maybe that was why he was even caring about this issue so much in the first place. Mail Jeevas eventually grew into someone strong and independent. Now the new Matt seemed to be working backwards from that.

Maybe this would be the way that Wammy's House would affect him; making him more vulnerable. Matt shifted slightly; he wouldn't like that to happen. All that would do is cause trouble.

Unintentionally he caught eyes with Mello. The blonde must've realised that too, even through the covering of Matt's goggles, because he gave him a vicious death glare. Matt couldn't help grinning. _Yep, the kitty has claws. Ha, how cliché._

The blonde obviously couldn't see what Matt had to grin about, because his eyes flashed with anger and he stubbornly looked away. _Well, at least he isn't coming over here with threats to punch me again. _

Maybe it wasn't too late for some people to be saved after all.

**A/N: Did you like the chapter? Anyway, just to let you know; I think Near will be at Wammy's in maybe two or three chapters. I just want to kind of get the whole Mello and Matt interaction thing underway (unless the stupid characters refuse to do so. I wouldn't put it past them). So sorry Near fans; you'll just have to wait a little bit longer. **

**Until next time, I suppose all there is to do is review and wait impatiently. All will be done in good time my friends; all in good time. See ya.**


	5. Chapter 5, Interactions

**A/N: Well this is probably going to be the last chapter I'll post for a while, since I won't get a chance to write over the weekend or anything. I'm going to a beach house for a few days with my cousins, yay! I thought that I'd just finish off this chapter here though so the time wouldn't be TOO long. You should be happy that I bothered to slave over this chapter. Oh the things I do for my stories. *insert dramatic sigh***

**Well, this is a mostly talking chapter. It's fully Matt's POV except a little bit at the end. Kind of a filler... sort of, and it introduces a kind of important character later on. Oh no, the horror, a dreaded OC! Don't worry, **_it _**won't be taking over the story. She just needs to play a certain role (it's alright, she won't do anything bad, I swear!). **

**So anyway, I hope you read and enjoy. And _please review; _I do check my story traffic and no-one ever reviews. *rolls eyes* I do like the feedback you know. So thanks to DizzyIzzy-04 and YagamiNeko for actually doing the right thing. And for encouraging me. ^_^ So yeah, I guess that's it. **

**Disclaimer: If I owned Death Note then I would probably be quite stupid writing fanfiction about it. Hmm, that probably isn't saying much though. **

Chapter Five- Interactions

_Damn, I should've seen that coming. _Matt should've probably had a fair idea that the bad tempered blonde would pull some sort of prank on him for more revenge, but even if Matt did realise this he most likely would never have guessed what that prank would be.

Usually when people booby-trapped your door, the ominous bucket of doom was filled with your classical prank liquids; such as water or paint. It seemed Mello didn't like to be ordinary.

So as Matt tried to wipe the melted chocolate off his goggles, he didn't know the blonde was nearby until he heard him start cackling like a crow with a really bad cough.

"Ha, ha, now you're making me hungry," he said hysterically, as Matt finally wiped off a huge chunk of the sticky food. He could see now, even if it was still a little foggy.

"You've got to be kidding me," said Matt in disbelief. "Do you have any idea how long it's going to take to get these looking shiny again!?"

"I thought that you'd be more worried about looking like a human chocolate sculpture, HA!"

"Whatever." Matt tried to shake off as much of the runny chocolate as possible before entering his room properly. _This is all going to take so long to clean. Urrgghh! _

"Hey, where are you going," said Mello, sounding confused.

"What's it look like, I'm going to take a shower," grumbled Matt.

"Are you freakin' kidding me!? I thought you had guts pipsqueak; but you're not even coming up with any smartass comments!"

"Well that prank pretty much has left me brain-dead. Besides, wasn't it my smartass comments that got me into this situation in the first place? I guess you're just looking for any reason to keep making my life hell eh?"

"Pretty much," shrugged Mello.

"Well that's great then," sighed Matt. "I'm not even here for a day yet and already I get targeted by a blonde demon in disguise. Geez, I am the luckiest person alive." And Matt slammed his door before giving the other boy another chance to speak.

He looked down at himself with his chocolate coated clothes. Perfect, it was already starting to harden. With another sigh he strode into the bathroom and tried to get out of his clothes as quick as possible. _I really hate showers, _he thought to himself glumly. _If only people didn't have a sense of smell; then you'd hardly ever have to take one._

After spending an incredibly long time trying to wash out all of the chocolate from his hair he finished off in the shower and in the bathroom and proceeded to find some clean clothes. Barely looking at the types of clothes that filled his closet he picked out an outfit randomly. He looked in annoyance at the little splatters of dried chocolate everywhere.

_I suppose I should clean those up… hmm, maybe tomorrow. Actually, what if I'm busy tomorrow? Yeah… sometime in the next week perhaps; after all, this is my room now. No one will notice, will they? _

And then he swore to himself. _Damn it, there's probably still some that can be seen from out in the hallway! I can't really hide that… unless I get a welcome mat. But where would I get a welcome mat from?_

Finally he decided that cleaning the stupid thing would be easier than finding a mat in this place. It would be best for him to do it before Roger came or something. Matt didn't really fancy getting yelled at by a grumpy old fart, especially for something that wasn't his own fault. As if he would rat out Mello; he didn't have a death wish.

He approached the door, bracing himself for the extent of the damage. _Cleaning really sucks. _

He twisted the knob to open it and found… not a tiny speck of chocolate anywhere. Matt scratched his head. _I know for a fact that I was dripping down a puddle full of it right there! Does this place have a cleaner or something? If so… then that was quick! _

In any case, Matt was glad he'd gotten out of cleaning. It wasn't like he'd made an excuse; the problem just disappeared. When life gave you lemons, don't waste your energy on the pointless stuff.

Matt mentally shrugged and turned back into his room, shutting the door behind him. He picked up the Game Boy he had found earlier and turned it on. The growing screen almost seemed to hypnotise him. _Ooooh, I could get used to this._

After the first ten minutes he was hopelessly hooked to Pokémon Red.

___________________________________________________

Matt adjusted to the lifestyle of Wammy's with what he thought was ease. The first few days kids had curiously approached him to converse with and ask him questions, but after it became clear the redhead had no interest in befriending them they eventually left him alone. Matt didn't really have an interest in learning to trust yet; he had gotten through eleven years without it, he could survive it now.

He was slightly annoyed when he had to start classes. He had never gone to a proper school before; preferring to read and learn things from self experience. The work was boring, he couldn't make himself feel motivated, and the teachers were irritating, bossy and strict. He preferred to sleep in class instead of listening to them and play his Game Boy instead of doing homework. He barely tried, but he still got high enough grades that the teachers couldn't think of how to complain about him. That aspect of it was quite entertaining.

Since the chocolate incident, Mello didn't play another prank on Matt. He was quite glad that the blonde had stopped picking on him, even though he still occasionally received angry glares or scornful looks. To be honest, Matt didn't really care about the obvious problems that psycho had and would prefer not to get punched in the face again. Who knew; he could break his goggles!

The first time that Matt had seen Roger put up the list of rankings he hadn't even bothered to look at the sheet. Seriously, what was more stupid than determining a person's intelligence by dumb classroom tests alone? Scores never had and probably never would interest Matt.

However, even someone as laid-back as Matt was caved in by the third week and look at the scores. He waited for the initial crowd to die down before first before peeking at the list.

Still in first place was Mello. _No surprise there; the kid is practically a robot. Well… the most bad tempered robot ever, and one that is obsessed with chocolate, but that's not the point!_

Matt's shielded eyes continued on. _Eh? What the hell?_

In second place, printed perfectly, was his own name. Matt scratched his head thoughtfully. _That was unexpected. Am I trying hard or something? Man… this is such a drag. Why on earth am I second? Geez, the teachers must be trying to torture me or something. Damn. _

"Ah yes, Matt, just the young man I was looking for," came a voice from behind, and sighing dramatically Matt turned to face Roger. "I see you have found your place."

"Second isn't my place," stated Matt dully.

"Well if you want to be first then you should try harder. I don't ever see you studying or paying much attention in class."

"That's not what I meant; I don't care about these dumb rankings. I'm just seriously doubting the 'genius-ness' of most of the kids here if they can't even score higher than _I _can. Or are they on drugs or something?"

"They're still geniuses Matt. It's natural that in each generation that there are those who can surpass even those that are classed high in society. Like L for instance. He may have a lot of bad habits and a lack of propriety but he still towers over the rest of the world. Even though others might be called a genius he can dwarf them in comparison."

"Uh huh, right. I think I should be in that minor dwarfed genius category."

"Matt, you are what people call a natural genius. You believe you don't need to study or work hard because your brain can automatically pick up connections without a lot of thinking. While this may be useful at times there are still situations where this ability may not help you, like when there is new or a lack of information. L is also a natural genius."

"Well that's a bad sign," huffed Matt. "I don't want to be the next L." Roger raised an eyebrow. "Don't say such stupid things," he scolded. "Everyone wants to be like L, even though for the love of God I cannot see why. In any case Mello is so far the most likely candidate. Unlike you he actually listens and tries to imbed all the information he can into his brain."

"But naturally I'm still smarter than him," smirked Matt. _Ha, for some reason I find that thought funny. _

"Naturally I'm sure you both have your strengths in different areas. Although, in the test Quillsh Wammy gave you Mello got a slightly higher score. Still, the two of you more than exceeded the normal standards at this orphanage."

"Hmm."

"If you tried harder Matt you could do extremely well."

"Seriously Roger, let me be honest with you. Even if I wanted to try harder, which I definitely don't, I hardly doubt I could pluck up enough energy to anyway. Working is too… well, too much work really, and I'm way too lazy to bother with anything like that."

"Matt, I know you're young still, but you have to realise that working is a necessary for you to be able to live."

"Nah, I'll just hack into things to make a living. I don't class that as work."

"…That is illegal Matt."

"Duh, I'm a genius, remember? What's your point?"

"My point is-" Roger began giving a very stern and long lecture about what his whole point was. Matt had spaced out and stopped listening after the first sentence.

"You understand that," asked Roger, still sounding stern.

"Nope, I wasn't listening," grinned Matt.

"Why do I even bother," asked Roger to himself, and walked off mumbling something about rude children and demons hiding inside the bodies of the most intelligent. Matt merely shrugged to himself and decided to go back to his room and switch on the current love of his life.

___________________________________________________

As was to be expected, Matt's ascension to second place caused a few different things to happen. For one thing, Mello was glaring at him as much as ever, if not more than before. Warning him probably.

There was another kid who had been shooting him death glares too. He was a miserable looking brown haired teenager, which Matt noticed always sat alone and got weird looks from the other children. He didn't know his name, but eventually he got so sick of the teen's looks that he decided to find out what his problem was.

"Did I do something to deserve your hatred, or am I just too good-looking for my own good," the redhead asked the other boy. He looked at Matt with angry eyes.

"You… have degraded me," the teen hissed, eyes narrowing to slits.

"Come again? Who are you anyway?"

"Shiloh."

"Well… I'm Matt."

"I know who you are." There was an awkward silence for a while. "Umm, so why do you always look at me like you want to kill me," Matt asked.

Shiloh growled. "There was once a time when I was number one at this orphanage," he started slowly, eyes glinting dangerously. "The kids would do anything to be acknowledged by me. I could ask anything of them and they would rush off to do it. They practically worshipped me, because since L was gone all the time I was the closest they got to him! It was me! It was supposed to stay as me!"

Shiloh clenched a fist. "Then that blonde bastard came," he hissed again. "He was so different from the rest of them, so confident and cocky. And he believed that he could pass me… they all did! I had to rough up that kid… ha; I guess I didn't suspect that he would surpass me after all. But he did, and then the tables turned on me."

Shiloh kept clenching and unclenching his fist. "He took my rightful place. They all flocked to him… instead of me! They mocked me, saying that they were glad that I'd gotten knocked off from my pedestal."

"Umm, so why are you angry at me? Shouldn't you just be angry at Mello," asked Matt.

"Being in second place still kept me in a high enough position that generally people apart from _him _left me alone. I'm third now; I'm fair game. The stupid kids know how powerless I am now and in a low position such as this they can do what they want. You and Mello have ruined me!"

The gleam in Shiloh's eyes only got more deadly by the second. "Leave me alone," he cried out. "I have nothing more to say to you!" Matt took a step back. "Geez man, calm down," he said hurriedly.

Shiloh merely glared at him and shrunk back into his corner. Matt decided that it would be best to leave well enough alone and walk away. _I guess this is the sort of thing that this orphanage does to people. Nobody has any idea. _

Suddenly a small figure darted around the corner and smacked right into him. The thing fell down to the ground with an 'oomph'. Matt looked down at the girl that had ran into him tiredly.

"Ooops, sorry," she said to him, attempting to get up. Her hazel eyes widened. "Oooh, you were the person I was looking for anyway," she said triumphantly.

"Uh huh, right. And who are you," Matt asked, wondering if she should just walk away or not.

"I'm Sparrow," she said, flicking a dark brown curl of hair off her face. "Yeah, anyways, I was sent by Mello to find you. He said he must see you immediately, and of course when Mello says immediately then he means it. I already wasted two minutes running, so are you coming?"

"Why on earth does Mello need to talk to me," asked Matt in confusion.

"Don't ask me, I'm just the messenger," she shrugged. "He was about to chuck a tantrum, so I didn't bother asking questions."

"Let me guess, I _have _to go?"

"Yeah, pretty much, unless you want to be made into mincemeat. Hmm, that reminds me, I'm starving, so can you just let me bring you back to him so I can go and eat?"

Matt scratched his head. _This probably has something to do with me being in second place now. Maybe he's going to threaten me. Ah well, there's only one way to find out. _

"Okay, fine, I'll meet him. Lead the way," said Matt.

"Finally," exclaimed Sparrow. "And for a second there I thought you were going to refuse." With a spring in her step she brushed herself off and began going back the way she came. Matt practically had to speed walk to keep up with the girl.

"Maybe you'll come first place eventually," she commented as they practically ran. The unusual amount of exercise was making Matt tired.

"I highly doubt it," he wheezed.

"That's a bummer. You'd probably make a better number one than Mello; he's a whiny bitch who's always yelling. He seemed to be a nice person at first too. Goes to show how power can get to people's heads."

Matt didn't even bother to attempt to speak again. Sparrow was doing enough chatting for the both of them anyway. _This is so not worth it. Why did I even decide to go to this stupid place? Seriously, it's so screwed up! There isn't anyone normal here or anything. Hmm, I guess I can't say that I'm normal though either, to be fair. Nevertheless, I'm really sick of these rankings; they run everything around here. _

Matt hoped there wasn't much more to go, because he felt like he was about to throw up. He couldn't see how anyone could enjoy running, and for more than a few minutes too!

_This better be worth it. _

___________________________________________________

Mello was pacing impatiently, wondering what was taking so long. _Seriously, I sent the quickest person I could. Hmph, she probably knocked herself out or something._

He took another bite of his chocolate bar, letting the delicious flavour fill his mouth. He took a deep breath. Mello needed to talk to Matt now, and he didn't want to let the redhead get to him or automatically set off his temper. Sometimes it was good to be rational. Still, he wasn't going to be rational if he had to wait much longer.

_People never understand the concept of important, or the time 'immediately.' Next time I'll go do it myself. _Then he cocked his head as he heard footsteps coming down the hall. _Ah yes, finally. Took them long enough too. _

The door opened, and a ruffled looking Sparrow and a puffed out and wheezing Matt entered through into the room. Mello gazed at them with as little emotion as he could. "It's about time," he said gruffly.

"It took a while to find him, sorry boss," replied Sparrow with a mock salute.

"Whatever, I don't care. Leave now." Sparrow immediately turned around and bolted back through the door with an almost inaudible "about time!"

Mello focussed his attention on Matt. Of course it was impossible to guess what he was thinking with those stupid goggles on all the time.

"So, what do you want," puffed Matt. The boy was obviously not used to getting places in a hurry. Typical.

Mello allowed a toothy grin to settle over his face. "I was just about to get to that."

**A/N: Sorry for the 'sorta' cliffhanger. I hope you're not having a spaz attack or anything due to the OC's. Seriously, Sparrow will have a purpose later on (well, if everything goes to plan, which it probably won't anyway). So you're gonna have to wait a while for the next chapter, so sorry, and I'll try to make it extra long to make it up to you guys. See ya. **


	6. Chapter 6, Understanding

**A/N: I'm sorry it took ages to do this chapter! I just couldn't feel motivated enough for some reason... Ah well, I still forced it out in the end. Already I'm finalising my details on the main plot (even though it's likely to change anyway) but it will take a while for it to come. So anyway, this is a Matt and Mello focussed chapter. It's important, believe me. I hope you read, enjoy and review!**

**Disclaimer: Hmm, if I owned Death Note... *starts laughing evilly* No comment. **

Chapter Six- Understanding

Matt supposed that an ordinary person would be scared if the school bully decided to have a 'talk' with them, but he couldn't summon up enough energy. What was the worse that Mello could do anyway? Yell at him, beat him up? He couldn't do anything that would cause permanent damage unless he wanted to get kicked out by Roger, which seemed quite unlikely.

The blonde was looking at Matt carefully, as if trying to gauge his emotions. _Good luck trying to burn lasers through these goggles. _

Mello finally spoke. "Are you frightened," he asked.

Matt replied with a shrug. "I guess not," he admitted.

"You should be," Mello snorted. Matt cocked an eyebrow.

"Why, are you going to hurt me or something?"

"Did I say that I would?"

"No."

"Well then you shouldn't assume things."

"I like assuming things; when I do they usually turn out correct. It's way too easy to read people these days."

"I see… in that case, since you're so good at reading people, then why do I wish to talk to you?"

_Sigh, this is so annoying. _"I didn't say that I was psychic," Matt replied dryly. "You should stop ASSUMING things."

To his surprise Mello laughed, similar to his throaty cackling the day he pranked Matt. "There are those little comments of yours again. Did you know that you're the first person who hasn't automatically bent down and acknowledged me as their superior? No-one dares to speak against me."

"Great, I think I see where this chat is going now," said Matt. "You've noticed that I've gotten second in the rankings and see me as a threat, so you're going to force me into practically worshipping you or something and stop me from dethroning you."

"Haven't we just talked about not assuming things," replied Mello innocently. "You're on the right track, but not quite fully there. Yes, I've realised of your progression to second place, but I do not see you as a threat."

"Pardon my bluntness, but that seems kind of stupid."

"No; stupid would be thinking of you _as _a threat. You couldn't handle being first; you know this as much as I do."

"Are you sure," challenged Matt. "Seems pretty simple to me. Be the best, boss people around; get your name known everywhere. Anyone could handle it." _That should unnerve him a little, even though it's only a bluff. _

Mello's eyes glinted dangerously. "Bastard, don't spout that load of garbage." Still, Matt nearly grinned in triumph as a flicker of uncertainty came over the blonde's face. _This is quite an amusing game. And he hasn't even gotten onto what he wanted to say yet…_

"I don't know how you can just respond to anything like it doesn't mean anything at all… like there aren't any effects or implications to what you say, and that really annoys me," said Mello thoughtfully. "But it makes me feel curious nevertheless. And being curious about that makes me curious about more things. Why come to an orphanage full of geniuses if you don't want to be at the top? Why act in ways that could easily cause someone to hurt you when there is an easier alternative? And why wear something to cover your eyes when it seems all you ever do is observe?"

"Curiosity killed the cat," commented Matt, still unfazed.

Mello narrowed his eyes. "You are too confusing," he fumed, irritation now clearly showing on his face. "You act like a goddamned robot! I could snap those goggles off your freakin' face and I bet that all I'd see would be blank, glass eyes!"

"I get it," smirked Matt. "I'm hard to understand so you want to solve me like I'm a puzzle." _And you hate not knowing things so much that you throw a tantrum whenever things are too difficult. Geez, you must've been an extremely spoiled child. _

"Stop looking at me like that," growled Mello. "I want answers!"

"Answers to what?"

Mello looked like he was about to explode. "I SWEAR THAT I'M ABOUT TO FUCKING KILL YOU! I KNOW THAT YOU HAVE SOMETHING TO HIDE; SOMETHING YOU WANT TO FORGET! YOU CAN ACT LIKE NOTHING FAZES YOU BUT IT'S THE PEOPLE WHO ACT LIKE YOU DO THAT ARE IN DENIAL THE MOST! YOU STUPID FUCKING COWARD!"

"So you basically want me to tell you personal information about myself," said Matt, trying to ignore the quick jab of pain that Mello's words had brought on.

"I need to be able to understand the way your head works," growled the blonde, obviously trying his best to hold back pent up fury.

"Why?" Mello seemed stumped by this question. Matt decided to save him the trouble and answer it himself. "You're really insecure about yourself, aren't you," he asked. "You just _need _to know everything, to understand everything. Not knowing something makes you feel threatened eh?" Matt scratched his head, and Mello merely looked at him with livid fury. "Fine then," the redhead shrugged. "What do you want to know? Take your pick; do you wish to hear about my life before the streets, or during the streets?"

It was another bluff; Matt had no intention of telling Mello anything about his past, but he figured that the blonde would focus on other things if he kept the whole unfazed and uncaring act up.

"I hate you," said Mello venomously. "I hate that you can block off your emotions.

"I hate you too," said Matt with a grin. "I hate that you wear them out on your sleeve and let them take over."

"Hmph." Mello regarded Matt quietly with burning sapphire eyes. "You're really something else." For the first time since the beginning of the conversation, Mello took a bite of the chocolate bar he was holding in his hand. Matt wondered why it seemed that every time he saw the blonde he had chocolate at the ready. Probably some stupid fetish.

"Come with me." Matt was surprised by the sudden order. _Huh, what is he up to? _

"Why?"

"Because I'm telling you to."

"Well that's polite." Still, as Mello passed by him and exited the room Matt decided to follow him anyway. _He'd just force me to go if I resisted anyway, there's no point. _

"Where are we going?"

"Somewhere."

"Ooooh, spooky. I had no idea that we'd be going somewhere."

"Shut up before I change my mind."

"Geez, I thought that chocolate was supposed to relax people."

"Hmmph, you thought wrong. Chocolate contains caffeine; caffeine is a stimulant." As if the subject was affecting him, Mello took another bite of chocolate.

"Creepy," commented Matt. The blonde merely glared at him. _I think he needs to grow a sense of humour. He already has a big enough mouth. Than again, so do I. _

To Matt's surprise Mello had led him to the front door of the orphanage. "Nooooo, we're not going outside are we," he whined. "You have absolutely no idea how much I hate the outdoors." _I guess that's what comes of being kept indoors for most of your life. _

"Suck it up. Besides, didn't you just mention before that you used to live on the streets?"

"Doesn't mean I like being outdoors." Matt hoped that this 'outing' would end soon, so he could go back to his room and continue playing his Game Boy. Or at least watch some TV.

"This way," Mello huffed, veering off to the side of the lawn where there were no kids. _I hope he isn't going to murder me and then attempt to stash my body in those bushes._

"There's just… trees and bushes here," Matt said blankly.

"Thankyou for stating the obvious," replied Mello sarcastically. "Look closer you dimwit." The blonde pointed, and Matt finally noticed a small gap in between a couple of large thorned plants. Barely big enough for a child of his age to squeeze through.

"Well are you just going to stand there all day? Go on; crawl through it!"

"Why, is there a dangerous animal or something that's on the other side, and you're going to leave me to get eaten?"

"No asshole, I'll be right behind you. Now move it!" Mello sounded like he was getting really impatient, so Matt got down on his knees and began to crawl through the gap, trying not to let his clothing snag on the thorns.

_This is really weird. I wonder what's going on. Ouch, stupid bush!_

___________________________________________________

For some time in the period when Mello had first arrived at Wammy's, he had purposefully avoided the other kids and kept to himself. He had kept himself content by exploring every nook and cranny both in and out of the orphanage. These little expeditions had caused him to discover the gap in between the bushes. As he was curious, he had crawled through the gap then and mentally declared it his territory.

Since reaching first place, Mello had not come back to his hideout. There wasn't any point for him to keep to himself when he could get the whole orphanage to obey him with a word. It was amusing.

But Matt didn't do that. He was unusual; unique if Mello was in a good mood. He didn't understand how anyone could be so unmotivated but still be a genius. And as the redhead had pointed out earlier; when Mello didn't understand something, it made him feel threatened.

The clearing was as he had remembered it. Leaves and the brambles of trees covered the ground, and the thick growth of plant life surrounding the area kept it hidden from both the air and from around the sides. Without cutting down the flora, it was impossible to get through apart from that small gap.

"So now what," muttered Matt, who was trying to pry the tiny thorns from his clothing.

"So this is where I wanted you to go," answered Mello.

"Eh? I don't get it. This place isn't that special; it's too closed off for my liking. Why'd you want me to come here?"

"I was bored." That wasn't true, but of course Mello couldn't reveal to Matt the real reason. He wouldn't be happy hearing the redhead's amusement as he admitted that he believed that by bringing him here, to his private place, he was definitely not threatened by him at all. Now that Mello thought about it, it was quite stupid really; this unplanned act of spontaneity.

"You've got to be kidding," said Matt in disbelief. He kicked up some leaves. "Hey, what's that?"

"The entrance to some sort of underground storehouse," answered Mello, knowing that Matt was referring to the wooden trap door that was normally hidden from view. The blonde had discovered it on his first visit as well. "Or it could be a bunker," he continued. "It's locked, as you can see… so I haven't actually been inside."

"You've never picked a lock before?"

"No…"  
"Ha, some genius you are."

"Well in my life I've never had to live as a ratty street kid with criminal friends," Mello snapped. "When would I ever had to have picked a lock!?"

"Touché." The redhead seemed unfazed. _Grr, I wish I could actually see his eyes! Stupid bastard!_

"So do you just have gang meetings with all of your followers here or what," asked Matt.

"No," Mello said simply, unwrapping a new bar of chocolate absentmindedly. "In fact, I haven't been here in ages."

"Uh huh." Matt seemed to think for a minute. "So apart from you, who else has been here?"

"No-one, as far as I know," Mello shrugged.

"Then this is your… secret thinking space or whatever?"

"I guess it could be called that." Mello took a bite of the new bar. "You should feel privileged to be in it."

"Well, not really…" Matt scratched his head. "It seems kind of stupid. You've advertised perfectly how much you both despise me and fear me, but then your next move is to take me to a place that is of some sort of personal value to you. Like I said before; some genius you are."

Mello was about to respond with a whole lot of swearing and yelling, but Matt continued speaking. "I never thought that I would ever have to say this; but it looks like my first impression of you was wrong. You're a lot harder to read than you actually seem on the surface. Looks like you're not an open book after all."

Mello took a deep breath. "I suppose that makes two of us," he hissed.

Matt nodded. "Yeah, I guess. Anyway, this place is good for one thing. If I can snag some cigarettes from somewhere I can smoke them here without being noticed."

"You smoke," Mello asked disgustedly.

"On occasion, yeah. I wouldn't say that I'm addicted to them… although sometimes I just crave them. It's usually when I'm outdoors, like now for instance."

"Well you are not going to toss any stupid cigarette butts on the ground here," growled Mello.

"Whatever. I probably won't be able to get any for a while in the first place." The redhead shifted slightly. "Seriously, I really don't like all of this fresh air, so unless you want to gossip and tell me all your secrets and shit like that I'm out of here."

The jibe made Mello's eyes narrow. "Fine, get out of here," he ordered.

"Geez, I already said I was going; you don't need to demand it!"

"Yes, I do." _Especially to you and your big mouth. _

Matt wandered back over to the small gap, kneeling down. "I'm going to pick the lock tomorrow," he announced. "I guess you can watch me do it if you like." And he started making his way back to the other side without waiting for a comment.

Mello wasn't stupid. He knew what Matt's message really was. It went along the lines of; _if you act nice to me then I have no reason to think badly of you. I don't mind if you want to treat me as if I'm a friend. _

Mello didn't think of Matt as his friend, but he couldn't deny that in the short time they had spent in his hideout, the two had begun to get to know each other. There was definitely something there; an understanding. Almost like, even though they were so different, they were like kindred spirits.

___________________________________________________

From that day, to the surprise of both boys, a small relationship began to form between the two. Even after Matt's epic failure in trying to pick the lock of the door the next day, they couldn't help but continue to hang out with one another. Of course there were always excuses, like Mello complaining that it was too boring talking to people who were too robotic all of the time, and Matt saying that being near Mello allowed him to profile all different kinds of kids. The two would just never admit that they enjoyed each other's company.

Matt quickly became known as Mello's right hand man, or 'Number Two'. Some of the more mischievous orphans called him Mello's bitch, and people who said this term too loud mysteriously ended up in the infirmary the next day.

Matt couldn't kid himself forever; he knew that he had finally, for the first time in his life, made a friend. He never would've guessed that it would be with a person like Mello in a million years. In fact, he never would've guessed that he'd ever make one at all. Matt wasn't exactly what you would call social. Still, he had to admit that having a friend was a good feeling.

Mello also was holding the right end of a stick. Having an absolute certainty that his position was secure (after all, Matt wouldn't dare to try to surpass him now), and overall feeling quite content, the dreams he had been experiencing every night had started to dwindle down to merely disturbing, instead of all out nightmares. He found that when it came to Matt it was easier for him to bite his tongue and keep his temper in check, which was a good thing for the blonde. It was almost like a little bit of pressure had been lifted.

The two had a number of unspoken rules about when they hung around together. Personal information was never brought up, especially when it came to their pasts. Matt was not allowed to interfere when Mello was arguing/fighting with another person (he learnt this one the hard way). Mello was not permitted to touch Matt's games, and Matt wasn't allowed to eat Mello's chocolate. This kept everything in order, and minimal harm was caused to the two.

However, there is always a downside to things. Being Mello's friend and being extremely perceptive was a bad combination. It was obvious to Matt that at times the blonde felt extremely troubled, most often early in the morning. However, he didn't feel like it was his place to ask Mello what was wrong, especially when their friendship was only in the developing stage, so he kept quiet. Still, he could have a few guesses as to what was the problem, and he suspected that it had a lot to do with his bad temper (even though it had seemed to slightly improve over time) and violent ways of solving things.

But, overall, their friendship was a good thing.

**A/N: Phewph, that chapter was so hard to write at the end. Anyway, to all you Near fans, he will be coming to Wammy's in the next chapter (or be on his way, depending on how long it is). Sorry Mello, sorry Matt, your time is up for the moment. Ah well, they were being annoying anyway.**

**On a completely different note, I have had the song 'Toy Soldiers' by Martika stuck in my head forever, and it reminds me of the kids at Wammy's House (so sad). Yeah, that might've been the tiniest bit random. But yes, I highly recommend that song; it is awesome!**


	7. Chapter 7, Home

**A/N: Phewph, that took forever! It is so difficult to write as Near sometimes, seriously, especially if you're trying to avoid OOC-ness. So if anyone's a bit out of character I'm sorry about that, I'm a bit iffy on the whole thing actually. This is definitely not my favourite chapter. Still, the three boys will start interacting soon, so that will be fun! And then... the plot, DUNN DUUUUNNN!!! How exciting is that? Anyway, I hope this chapter is at least satisfactory, even if it's not the best. Thanks for reading.**

**And by the way, I just got all the Death Note DVD's recently, so I've begun watching them all over again. *sigh* Watching Mello and Matt die is so depressing. On the plus side I've converted my little sister and my parents to watching all the episodes. I had this huge argument with my mother on the gender of Mello and Near. *rolls eyes* She called Near pretty, ain't that weird? That doesn't really have anything to do with anything though, so whatever. I got a bit off track; I just felt like adding something random. So, start reading now.**

**Disclaimer: If I owned Death Note, I would own Mello. Enough said. **

Chapter Seven- Home

"Hello Nate, my name is Doctor Ridgley," the man said with a kind smile. Nate blinked at him blankly. He was the third doctor this week. _There is nothing wrong with me, so why do they keep coming?_

"Do you know why I am talking to you Nate?" Nate tried to remember the last doctor's reason. "There is something wrong with me," he guessed.

"Well… not on the outside Nate, but you need somebody to help you deal with your traumatic experience."

"I can't comprehend what you mean." The process was the same each time.

"Do you know what the word rape means?" The doctor was looking at him in a concerned way, obviously trying to word things properly for the young boy.

"Rape; an act of plunder, violent seizure, or abuse; despoliation; violation," answered Nate immediately, the word commuting within his mind straight away.

"I see you can understand," said Ridgley, unable to hide his surprise about the way that the albino talked. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really. I'd estimate that there is around an eighty nine percent chance that talking about it wouldn't change my feelings toward the situation in any way. Furthermore, even if that eleven percent bet the odds there would be only a two percent chance that these feelings would be something other than negative. Besides, there is nothing wrong with me. I don't why, but you think there is. I know that Daddy probably deserved getting sent to jail, but he loved me, and he always proved it to me. I don't really want to ever see him again, but overall I am fine with everything. So you don't need to bother trying to fix me Doctor Ridgley."

The doctor had his mouth so wide open that it looked like it could make a good bird nest. "I cannot believe this," he said in disbelief.

___________________________________________________

Nate didn't mind this new place he had been sent to. All the occupants in the building, young and old alike, generally kept to themselves, and the workers in the institute were so friendly that it almost seemed unnatural. They treated Nate like he was as delicate as glass and let him stay all day in a room full of toys. The young albino was content with this arrangement.

He knew that the place was some sort of institution/rehabilitation service for those who were deemed to need looking after. He didn't really think that he needed it, but nevertheless it was laid back and let him do as he pleased. This wasn't that much anyway.

Then everything changed on that one day. Again, someone had come to see Nate, and the boy immediately expected another doctor. However, he was wrong.

There were two visitors this time. One was an old man, and the other not far past his teen years. They looked kind, or at least the older one did, and Nate was reminded of the workers.

"Hello Nate River," said the kind looking man. "My name is Quillsh Wammy. This here is L."

Nate didn't bother replying, just continued working on his newest puzzle. Well, it was to be expected that he'd practically ignore them since they were in his playroom. Usually Nate was forced to go into the main hall to meet visitors.

"Are you sure about this one Watari," said the visitor named L, who hadn't even bothered to lower his voice while talking to his companion.

"Of course I am. The people here rang me personally and told me how this young boy managed to drive all of his psychologists to the point of insanity. How old are you Nate?"

"Nine," the albino answered without looking up, not bothered at all by the conversation. _The more they talk to each other the less they talk to me. That is good. _

"Any nine year old child can annoy a psychologist," said L bluntly.

"No L, he outsmarted them."

"Hmm. Not every child can do that."

"Exactly. This is why we must see the extent of his intelligence." Wammy seemed to focus back on Nate. "Do you think that you are a smart child?"

"Being smart means to have or show quick intelligence and ready mental capability. It isn't something for me to judge."

"Let's just do this quickly Watari," said L, sounding bored. "To be quite honest this kid reminds me too much of what I was like when I was nine. I'm feeling a little bit of nostalgia here. So let's just get this over with."

"Patience L. We have to see whether he has the brains to get into Wammy's House."

"Of course he does. Nate, what is a semaphore?"

"Semaphore; a system of signalling by holding two flags in different positions to represent letters of the alphabet."

"Well, it is obvious enough that he is a natural genius," said Wammy thoughtfully. "Strange… he does seem a bit like you."

"Too much. It is unnerving. I do not want him to come with us."

"If I recall correctly, you had no qualms in Mello and Matt going to Wammy's, even though they were a little different from the other kids."

"Well Mello and Matt were not complete copies of me."

"Don't be silly L. You are behaving so unlike yourself, snap out of it."

Nate continued on with his puzzle in silence. He was used to people talking as if he wasn't even there; it was like his presence didn't have any sort of effect on others. It was a useful skill to have. _So they have come to take me to an orphanage. Why? Is it an orphanage full of people who are supposed to help me? So then why are they talking about my intelligence? No, in that case it must be an orphanage for geniuses. Yes, I'd say there is an eighty five percent chance that that assumption is correct. _

"Nate, we are here to make you an offer," said Wammy, seeming to only realise yet again that the boy was even there. "It is an opportunity that not many get."

"To join your orphanage, because you believe I am a genius," Nate asked.

"Yes… that is right. Wammy's House is designed to house only children with gifted mental abilities."

"And the purpose…?" _There has to be a reason of some sort. For all I know it could be a brothel. There is a high percentage that their intentions are ill. _

"To raise successors of L. Wammy's will help teach you the skills needed to be a detective, so when L does eventually die someone can take his place as the number one detective in the world."

"I see." Nate clicked the last jigsaw piece into his puzzle and looked up at the old man. "I do not really care about whether I go or not. This place is peaceful enough, but if you deem your orphanage to be a better place for me to grow up in, then who am I to decide?"

"Wammy's might not be as laid back as this place is. However, I do believe that being there will be better than staying. Do you want to continue having to explain to doctors all the time that there is nothing wrong with you?" Nate noticed L giving a pointed look at the old man, as if silently disagreeing with this statement.

"I suppose not," Nate answered. "Very well. I accept your offer."

"That is great. Now, there are just a couple more things we need to get out of the way first. For starters, you need to just complete this little test for me. It is standard procedure to confirm your genius status."

Nate took the pen and test paper without a sound, filling out the questions without hesitation. They were all like puzzles… so simple to piece together. _Too easy. _

In what seemed like no time at all he handed the paper back to Wammy, who glanced down on it with L looking over his shoulder.

"Extraordinary," Wammy said. "Absolutely extraordinary."

"Like I said Watari; he is too much like me," said L dryly.

"Hold your tongue L; this just may be the person who succeeds you one day. I never would have thought… we would see so many high scores in such a short period of time. This is going beyond my wildest dreams." Wammy smiled at Nate. "It would be an honour for you to come to my orphanage. Now, there is just one more thing. You have to completely leave your old life behind you now, so I must ask that you rename yourself. It can be anything that you like."

"Rename myself?" Nate thought for a while. He didn't credit himself on having a large imagination, so he tried coming up with a logical way of renaming himself. _My name is Nate River. Nate has four letters, so I think I should stick with an alias that has four letters too. The letter it starts with shall remain as an 'N.' Altogether the name Nate River has the majority of its vowels as an 'E', so that will come next. N, E; I should stick with using letters from my name as if it were an anagram. 'N' is the first letter in Nate, while 'E' is the last letter in it. The first and last letters in River are 'R' and another 'R', but the letters N, E, R, R can't make any sort of coherent alias whatsoever, so I'll take out one 'R'. The remaining letters I can use are either an 'A', 'T', 'I' or 'V'. I currently have two consonants in my alias and one vowel, so I'll pick another vowel. So, it's either an 'A' or 'I'. The letters 'N', 'E', 'R' and 'I' can't really rearrange themselves in a way that would suit me as a name. But 'N', 'E', 'R' and 'A'… Near. It can be rearranged as Near._

"I will call myself Near," Nate decided, congratulating himself mentally on his process of elimination through logic.

"Near… very well then," said Wammy. "You will come with me to Winchester, England."

___________________________________________________

Near was frightened the minute he saw the plane. He clung onto Wammy's arm and the old man chuckled. "It's alright Near; flying is an extremely safe way to travel."

"Actually Watari, didn't this airline crash a plane over a desert only nine months ago," put in L innocently.

"Quiet L. Look after Near while I go pick up our tickets." He gently pried Near's hand off his sleeve, and moved off with steady steps.

Near looked back at L with wide eyes, noticing that the black-haired youth was staring at him with what looked like puzzlement, and perhaps even a bit of resentment. The bags under his eyes only made him look more like he was judging the young albino.

Near nearly jumped in fright when someone suddenly knocked his arm while passing by, and he scooted closer to L in fear. The detective didn't seem happy about this and shifted slightly.

"If it was my choice you would not be coming," he said suddenly, and Near nearly jumped again.

"Really? Why?"

"Hmm."

"Can I ask you something?"

"I guess the reason I don't want you to come is because I just don't like you. But if you want to ask me something still, then go ahead."

"Where is my intelligence in comparison with the other children at Wammy's? How do I add up to the rest in this institute?"

"If it came down to the entry scores making the rankings… you would be at the top," said L slowly, panda eyes looking right at Near thoughtfully. "In any case, they don't determine your ranking, so I don't find it likely your intelligence will really matter. Wammy's is more than brains and tests."

"In other words, I must deal more with the other children there."

"That is one way of putting it…" The two stopped talking until Wammy came back with the tickets. "Are you sure you won't be coming along with us L," he asked.

"I'm positive. I've been visiting often enough as it is, it is time for me to be serious about my work. You know where to meet me when you're done."

"Okay, but I don't think the other orphans will be happy when they see you aren't going to visit them after all…"

___________________________________________________

"Did you hear the news," Mello asked Matt, who was fixated on playing his Game Boy on the other side of the room.

"Hn."

"Hey, listen to me when I'm talking to you! I told you not to play that thing when you're in my room! Turn it off before I snap it!"

Matt shut his Game Boy without a sound. "Fine then," he said with a huge sigh. "And by news do you mean the fact that Wammy and L are on their way with a newcomer?"

"Of course I am! What other news is there!?"

"Well, there was the news that I beat the fifth gym leader on my game… but I guessed that that wouldn't be the news you would be talking about."

"No shit."

"So I'm guessing that you're looking forward to this then? Can't wait to gain another person to boss around?"

"I couldn't care less about the stupid newcomer. I'm talking about L! Who knows what other cases he might've solved since he visited last? Wouldn't it be so cool to be like him! I could succeed him one day…"

Mello had just gotten into rant mode, and Matt knew that he would lose a few thousand brain cells if he continued listening to him. He therefore let his mind zone out of the conversation. There were only three things Mello ranted about; L (as he was now), himself (or as he put it; his pure awesomeness), and the stupidity of Roger and the other kids at the orphanage. It was lucky that Matt was a tolerant person. Well, sort of.

"Matt! You're not listening again, are you!?"

"Nope," replied Matt simply.

"Sometimes I wish that people would shoot you repeatedly with a gun you know."

"Well I wish that you'd accidentally blow off half of your pretty little face. In any case we should be careful what we wish for, don't you think?"

"Whatever. Now go get me some chocolate!"

"Ha, as if. You don't deserve my expertise in thievery."

"Expertise eh? If my memory serves me correctly you were caught when you tried breaking into Roger's office last night. You're not exactly the sneakiest person."

"Well go get the chocolate yourself then Mr Number One."

"Well Number Two, if you do not go and fetch me the chocolate right now I will suffer from withdrawal symptoms. Who knows what I am capable of…"

"Hey that's not fair!" The last time Mello had gone crazy… well, some horrors should be left unspoken of. Let's just say that it ended up with Matt and all the people in the surrounding area being sent to the infirmary.

"GET ME MY CHOCOLATE BEFORE I HURT YOU SLAVE!"

"Okay, okay," said Matt hurriedly, raising his hands in defeat. "I'm going already!"

"Hmmph, good. Keep your arguing with me to a minimum, okay?"

"Whatever." _Stupid Nazi. _

___________________________________________________

Near was not one to appreciate beauty. However things appeared was how they appeared; who was he to judge what was remarkable or not? Who was anyone to judge that? Still, he figured that others might've called England a beautiful place, even though to him it was only buildings and cars.

"You seem very calm Near," commented Wammy from the driver's seat.

"I am calm."

"You are not nervous at all?"

"No. Why, should I be? Whatever happens happens."

"Hmm, okay." The rest of the drive was spent in silence.

Near had to admit, when they finally did reach Wammy's House, it was different from what he expected. It was… lively. That was slightly unnerving, although he would never admit this out loud. Still, overall the plane had to be the worst thing about this whole situation. Near decided never to travel by air again. In fact, travelling should just be kept to a bare minimum.

"Come Near, this is your new home," pressed Roger, holding the young albino's hand and walking him up to the building. Near merely observed silently, figures and percentages running through his head like trains.

Home… this was now his new home…

**A/N: Ta da; Near is here! How will he react to Roger and the orphans? How will Mello react to the fact that L didn't come this time? You will find out next chapter, DUNN DUUUUNNNN!!! See ya next time.**


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